


Rend Asunder

by Josie_Lange



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 87,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josie_Lange/pseuds/Josie_Lange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the words "I yield," Lhiannon Amell's path as a Grey Warden changed forever. The story of what changed with those two small words. Begins at the Landsmeet and continues through Awakening. Rated "M" for adult themes, violence, and language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Directions Change

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This story was originally published on FF.net from October 2010 through February 2011. It is unbetaed, so the mistakes are all mine. I debated going back to correct them, but decided to leave them be. I want to see how I've improved since writing this, my first story. My later works are all betaed, which helps a lot!
> 
> Everything is owned by Bioware. I'm just a fan with an imagination. Contains spoilers for The Stolen Throne, The Calling, Origins, and Awakening. The "M" rating will be evident in later chapters (sex, violence, some language). Please read and review. Please be gentle; it's my first time (writing fan fiction that is!).

They had fought with a savage desperation for nearly a quarter hour. The sounds of armored footsteps echoed through the nearly silent chamber and the smell of residual magic hung in the air. The gathered nobles had pressed themselves against the walls of the Landsmeet chamber in an effort to avoid becoming collateral damage, several of them sporting splashes of blood on their fine clothes. Mage and warrior fought with magic and steel, each trying to assert dominance and victory over the other.

Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir was frozen in place and unable to move, his body being crushed by an invisible vice. Adding insult to injury, the mage threw a column of flame at him with a flick of her hand. _She has a weapon drawn…how can she cast?_ He watched helplessly through the flames as the mage circled around him, her vicious long dagger drawn, waiting for him to move again. She had already landed it in several places, bypassing his heavy armor and sinking it into his flesh. Loghain could feel the blood trickling down his skin from the wounds. It was as if she knew _exactly_ where to land her dagger amongst his heavy armor. He could feel the heat from the flames baking him alive inside his armor even as they began to subside. The vice began to loosen its hold and he lunged at the mage, swinging his shield while roaring in pain and anger. She had not been expecting that and the shield hit her full on, throwing her across the floor of the Landsmeet chamber and onto her back.

"Yield, Warden. You cannot hope to defeat me," he taunted her loudly as he felt the last of her vice fade away.

He heard her curse in pain and as he turned to go in for the kill, she hurriedly breathed another spell and sent it to him with a flick of the wrist. This time it was freezing and though for an instant it felt good against his baked skin, it quickly became painful as the cold settled into his bones and made the oil in his armor freeze. He felt his skin grow impossibly cold and begin to split, warm blood welling up from the wounds.

"But I'm not finished yet," she smiled sweetly at him. The smile, however, never reached her eyes.

The mage was immediately on her feet again, her dagger out and slashing at him as he slowly moved toward her. He was able to connect with his sword and opened a wound on her arm through her chain armor. He brought his sword around again and connected with her leg, watching as bright blood spilled out. She screamed and swore in pain but immediately began to chant again. _What I wouldn't give to shut her foul mouth,_ Loghain thought. He felt the vice close around him again, paralyzing him painfully in place, and knew that the fight was over. She limped up to him and shoved him onto his back, kicking his sword out of his hand. He could do nothing as he heard it skitter across the floor away from him. She calmly walked over to his other side and plucked the shield out of his hand before crouching down and holding her dagger to his throat. He tried to move but the spell held him fast. Her brown eyes glared at him with rage.

"Do you yield?" she snarled at him, breaking the spell and releasing the vice.

"Perhaps there is a bit of warrior in you after all," he sighed, looking warily between the dagger and her eyes. He took a deep breath and raised his voice so that all could hear, never breaking eye contact with her. "I yield."

How the mighty have fallen.

* * *

Lhiannon Amell could hardly believe her ears. She had just defeated Teyrn Loghain in an honorable duel to settle the Ferelden civil war. Her breath was coming in great gasps as she looked down upon Loghain laying on the floor in defeat. She looked at the dagger in her hand almost in disbelief. The dagger had been Zevran's; how ironic that it helped defeat his former contract holder. Loghain spotted the assassin out of the corner of his eye; that would most likely be the reason the troublesome mage had wielded a dagger so effectively against him. From what he understood, knife work was not one of the lessons taught to mages in the Circle.

"I accept your surrender," she said, sheathing the dagger and raising her voice so that it carried through the chamber as Loghain's did. There was gasping and murmuring from the assembled crowd, the sounds echoing off the walls of the chamber. Ferelden would now be united to defeat the darkspawn threat, as it should have been before. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Queen Anora, who had been standing on the dais wringing her hands together in worry, visibly relax. Lhiannon had not expressly promised the Queen that she would spare Loghain, but told her that if it were possible, she would try. Hopefully this now meant a stronger ally in the Queen. Lhiannon backed away from Loghain and he slowly stood, waiting for what would happen next.

"You… _what_?" Alistair had charged up to Lhiannon from his place near the edge of the chamber. His brow was furrowed in anger and his face turning an alarming shade of red as he approached her. The fury radiated off him in palpable waves. She had never seen him this angry before; her friend looked like a complete stranger to her in that moment. He grabbed her arm and twisted her to face him. She gasped at the strength of his grip, feeling his fingers digging into her flesh. "What in the name of the Maker could you possibly  be thinking?"

"Alistair, Loghain has surrendered; I _will not_ kill him. The fighting is over and the civil war ended. He will stand trial to answer for his crimes…"

"No!" Alistair shouted, pointing at Loghain. "He doesn't _deserve_ a trial for what he's done! He betrayed the Grey Wardens at Ostagar and left King Cailan and Duncan to be _slaughtered_ by the darkspawn! He named himself regent to usurp the throne _from his own daughter_!  Andraste's blood, Lhiannon, he tried to have an Antivan Crow _assassinate_ you!" Alistair had pointed to Zevran, who stood off to the side with a pained look on his face. Clearly, the elf wanted to be anywhere but here. "What Loghain _deserves_ is justice, not mercy. He _deserves_ to die for his crimes!"

"Wait," a voice came from behind Lhiannon. Riordan, the Orlesian Grey Warden they rescued from the dungeon at Arl Rendon Howe's estate, stepped forward and placed an arm in front of Alistair. He gently pulled Lhiannon back a step and Alistair let her arm go. "Alistair, there is another option here. Make Loghain undergo the Joining."

Lhiannon turned and glared at Loghain, arrogant satisfaction in her eyes. "Yes, I think that's an excellent idea."

Anora had come forward from the dais to stand next to her father, a puzzled look on her face. "The Joining? But is that not dangerous? Could that not kill him?"

Loghain was watching the unfolding events with both fascination and contempt. How in the Black City did these two… _lickspittles_ …get this far? While the mage had at least half a brain in her head, Maric's bastard let his emotions override his judgment; like Maric sometimes did, Maker help us all. That trait obviously carried through the Theirin bloodline. Loghain kept his face passive, but it was extremely difficult. The only thing that could make this whole affair even more ridiculous would be if the archdemon itself appeared in the chamber carrying a tray of pastries.

"Are you serious?" Alistair asked Riordan, ignoring Anora completely. He could not believe what he was hearing. "Becoming a Grey Warden is an _honor_ , not for a traitorous, murdering…bastard…like this! I won't allow it." He stepped toward Riordan and Lhiannon menacingly, fists clenched at his sides in anger.

"Alistair, please," Riordan pleaded, keeping his voice low and even. "There are compelling reasons as to why we need as many Grey Wardens as possible facing the archdemon."

Lhiannon put her hands on Alistair's chest plate to stop his advancement. "Alistair, be reasonable," she said firmly. "It will work. What better way could there be for him to atone for his crimes but to become a Grey Warden? We are too few and could use his skill…"

Alistair slapped her hands away from him, the shock traveling up her arms. "Absolutely not! I will not allow Loghain to live and become a Grey Warden. _I will not call him brother._ If taking the crown and marrying… _her_ …is what it will take to see justice done, then I'll do it. I'll take the crown and become King." He turned to glare at Anora. "And if you think I'm just going to roll over and let you rule alone, you are sorely mistaken." He pulled his sword and walked toward Loghain threateningly.

"Alistair, wait," Lhiannon barked and stepped in front of him. "Did Duncan ever tell you how he became a Grey Warden? Did you ever ask him during your travels?"

"What could that possibly have to do with this? Get out of my way Lhiannon."

Lhiannon grabbed his arm to stop his advancement. "Duncan did not become a Grey Warden by choice, Alistair. He was to be executed for murder," Alistair flinched at the word but kept his gaze locked on Loghain. "He murdered a Grey Warden in Val Royeaux while robbing him and was going to be executed when the Warden Commander found him. She conscripted him because she thought it was impressive, that he was able to kill a Grey Warden." She paused, watching Alistair's face go from righteous anger to anguish. She felt terrible, saying these things to her friend about the man that they had both admired and respected, but she knew she had to continue. "The Warden Commander had hoped he would die in the Joining—it was her fiancé he murdered. But he did not die. He lived. He did his duty as a Grey Warden and found redemption in that duty. If Duncan could be redeemed, so can Loghain."

Alistair looked like he was going to be sick, his face beginning to crumple and his skin turning ashen. How could she do this after all Loghain had done? How could she argue for his worthless life? After a moment, his features began to harden and the anger flashed in his eyes. He wrenched his arm from her grip and turned on her, pushing her away from him. Riordan had to extend a hand to catch her before she fell.

"How can you say those things about him? Duncan was a good man! Are you so desperate to spare Loghain's life that you would resort to _lies_? I never expected you to turn on me, Lhiannon."

"Alistair," Riordan said cautiously, keeping is voice calm, even. "Lhiannon speaks the truth. Duncan told me the story years ago, when I was recruited into the Grey Wardens."

Alistair raised his sword and looked at both Lhiannon and Riordan in turn before turning toward Loghain. "None of this matters," he spat. "Justice will be done and I will be the one to deliver it if neither of you are brave enough to do so." He raised his sword toward Loghain. "May the demons take your soul." Loghain stared into Alistair's face; if he was going to die, he was going to do it with his eyes open.

Lhiannon took a deep breath and gathered her composure, readying herself for Alistair's inevitable fury. "Alistair Theirin," she spoke in her most formal voice; the tone of her voice made him pause. It was the voice of command and his pause was instinctual. "As a Grey Warden I do hereby invoke the Right of Conscription. Loghain Mac Tir will submit to the Joining." Loghain's wary eyes moved over to her, but he said nothing. A murmur rippled through the assembly.

Alistair turned away from Loghain, lowering his sword, the hatred evident on his face. Not even he could deny the Right. " _What?_ You…you...invoke the Right of Conscription…for _him_?" He turned and looked at Lhiannon, pointing accusingly at Loghain. Her face was both full of sorrow and determination, but her shoulders were square, resolute in her decision. He could not believe what she had done. Not only had she shown Loghain the mercy he in no way deserved, but she planned to make him a Grey Warden. It was outrageous. That his friend could betray him like this… "I had rarely doubted the wisdom of your decisions before, but I cannot support this one.  Fine then. Take him, Maker damn you. Take him and get out of my sight." He turned to the assembled Landsmeet.

"Everyone, prepare your armies and land holdings. I will pick up my brother Cailan's sword and see this battle with the darkspawn through to the end. May Andraste bless us and guide us to victory in the Maker's name." The nobles began to file out of the hall. Alistair turned and left the Landsmeet chamber, Arl Eamon following him. Lhiannon watched him go, her heart breaking. She whipped her head around toward Loghain and eyed him coldly; his returning stare was just as cold.

"You," she snarled at him, "will join Riordan and I in his quarters this evening for the Joining. I'd get your affairs in order, were I you." Loghain gave Lhiannon a barely perceptible nod before going to Anora's side. She led him out of the Landsmeet chamber.


	2. Brother

The solemn Joining ceremony was being prepared in Riordan's guest room of the castle. Anora had insisted on attending, even bringing an ornate chalice from her chambers to serve as the vessel; Lhiannon saw no reason why she should not attend. After all, this could very easily be Loghain's execution. Lhiannon made it very clear to Anora that it was possible Loghain would not survive; did she really want to witness that? The Queen had squared her shoulders and firmly told Lhiannon that she would remain. She stood next to her father, whispering words of encouragement to him. She had taken his hand as he watched the preparations, his expression passive. If he felt anxious about the whole affair, he did not show it.

Loghain knew the ritual involved consuming darkspawn blood. It made him uneasy. He also would not put it past this Warden, _from Orlais_ , to add something else to the cup to make certain he would not survive. Loghain was sure that there were many people still in Orlais who would pay a handsome price to the person who killed the Hero of River Dane. Riordan claimed he was a native Ferelden; even so, there were many who would sell their allegiance for the right amount of coin, land, or favor. For many years, Loghain believed the Grey Wardens were secretly conspiring with the Orlesians to retake Ferelden. They had tried to overthrow the Ferelden throne before, which is what had them driven out in the first place. Then came that business with the Circle and its Orlesian First Enchanter not so long ago. No, the Grey Wardens were not to be trusted. When Maric had agreed after that fiasco at the tower to allow the Grey Wardens to stay in Ferelden permanently, Loghain had bitterly and vehemently opposed the idea. But, when Maric made up his mind, he could be unyielding. Loghain found it both amusing and exasperating that he was always considered to be the obstinate one, but Maric could be just as obstinate when he wanted to be.

Lhiannon and Riordan were at the small table, preparing the chalice that would hold the darkspawn blood. Loghain noticed that Lhiannon was doing most of the preparations; Riordan probably knew of Loghain's loathing for all things Orlesian and thought it best to have Lhiannon carry out the ritual. She poured some wine into the chalice, then removed a small vial from her pack and added its contents to the chalice. The blood was thick, black, and smelled faintly of corruption. That was a smell Loghain could never forget. She swirled the contents together in the chalice, then looked into Loghain's eyes.

"Join us, brother. Join us in the shadows, where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be foresworn; and should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you."

She handed him the chalice. Loghain took it and raised it to his lips. The combination of the wine and the darkspawn blood made his stomach lurch and he grimaced.

"I understand. If this is how I am to serve Ferelden, then I accept." He took a deep breath and began to drink.

"We call upon you to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

He finished. Almost immediately he felt the liquid burn his throat and continue down to his stomach, where it turned to ice. The chalice fell from his hand, making a loud clattering sound when it hit the floor. He doubled over, the pain radiating out from his core and lighting every nerve on fire. His vision doubled, then tripled before turning black. He saw a vision of a hideous great dragon; a deafening roar burst forth from its massive jaws. Where dragons were generally majestic creatures, this one was the physical manifestation of malevolence and death. Just as quickly as it came, the dragon faded from view. He could feel himself falling, whether it was to the floor or into some great black abyss, he could not tell. He thought he had heard Anora's voice through he pain, but he uncertain. It sounded so far away. Finally, the blackness was complete and he knew no more.

Loghain opened his eyes sometime later to find himself lying on Riordan's bed, Anora sitting on it beside him. He was still in his heavy armor, so he must not have been unconscious for too long. Riordan and Lhiannon were standing at the foot of the bed looking down at him, their faces solemn and thoughts unknown. Except that was not exactly true any longer. When he focused his new sense on Riordan, he felt calmness in the taint. _She_ was an altogether different matter. Loghain was unable to tell exactly what he was sensing from her, but knew it was anything but calm; it felt bitter. He was still feeling both disoriented and nauseous from the Joining, his skin pale and a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Father! You're awake", Anora exclaimed, relieved that he had finally woken up. Riordan and Lhiannon had known right away that Loghain would survive the Joining, but Anora was hesitant to believe them and refused to leave until he awakened. She helped him sit up on the bed. He swooned slightly but Anora kept him steady. She smoothed his hair and pulled a handkerchief from her dress, gently patting his brow with it. Loghain looked at her, irritated, and held up his hand to gently move hers away.

"I am fine, Anora." He did not need to be fussed over like a sick child, especially in front of these Grey Wardens.

"And for that, I thank the Maker," she said, stroking his cheek with love. "But now that you are awake and well I must go find my betrothed to make sure he hasn't been a complete fool while I've been gone, tearing up the palace with his foolish rants. I trust I'll see you before you leave, yes?" Loghain nodded to her and she turned to leave. "Wardens," she nodded to them as she left.

* * *

The next morning, the nobles of the Landsmeet began to go their separate ways to prepare for the inevitable arrival of the archdemon and the horde. A sense of urgency had descended on Denerim, the populace scurrying about and the anxiousness so thick it was almost palpable. Lhiannon likewise gathered her companions and asked them to make ready to leave Denerim. As she was walking back to her room to gather what few things she had, she rounded a corner and bumped into a large figure in gleaming plate armor. Muttering an apology, she moved to side step the figure but was jerked to a stop as the figure reached out and grabbed her arm.

Alistair. She was so preoccupied that she had not sensed him through the taint.

"Well, there you are," he said, his voice full of contempt. "Leaving so soon? I thought you would at least be throwing an engagement party for the happy couple."

Lhiannon sighed, knowing he would not make this easy for her. "Alistair, I'm sorry. I did what I thought was best for Ferelden by making Loghain submit to the Joining. I had hoped to add to the number of Grey Wardens and increase our chances of success against the archdemon."

"I know _you_ believe it was for the best. That…traitor…I still can't believe you made him one of us. He let the Grey Wardens and King Cailan _die_ at Ostagar because he thought he could defend Ferelden from the Orlesians by himself."

Lhiannon pulled her arm out of his hand. "Alistair, please, King Cailan was warned to stay off the front lines, but he wouldn't listen. And I would rather not discuss Loghain at the moment…"

"Well that's too bad then, isn't it? He's pretty much all I can think about right now. Every time I look at _her_ , I see _him_."

"Since you insist on speaking of Loghain," she began, her voice taking on an indignant tone, "say we did execute him instead of making him take the Joining. What do you think would have happened?"

"He would be _dead_."

Lhiannon rolled her eyes at him; sometimes she just wanted to _shake_ him.  "Other than dead, Alistair."

He returned her indignant glare with one of his own, small red splotches forming high on his cheeks. "His followers would have had no choice but to get behind the Crown and then _we_ would be on our way to confront the archdemon."

"In a perfect world, yes Alistair, that would happen." Lhiannon spread her hands in front of her, pleading for him to listen and not just hear. "But we don't _live_ in a perfect world. Had we summarily executed him without any sort of trial, his followers would have made him a martyr. He still has many, many followers among both the nobility and the common people. Maker's mercy Alistair, he's still seen as a bloody _hero_ among the people." She watched the color flush Alistair's face once again. "Do you think his followers would sit idly by? I think they would have rose up against the Grey Wardens and we would _still_ have civil war. How long do you think it would have been until someone buried a dagger in our backs?"

"I think you're wrong," he spat at her.

Lhiannon pointed an accusatory finger at him, choking back angry tears. "Then perhaps _you_ should have been the senior Warden right from the start instead of forcing _me_ to do it!" She watched as the color drained from Alistair's face, replaced by both shock and guilt. "You're the one who forced me into the leadership role and make the hard decisions. I did what I thought was best for Ferelden! I didn't have the luxury of others making the decisions for me."

Alistair stared down at his feet and if his glare could have bored holes through his armored boots, it would have done so. Lhiannon watched him take a deep breath and saw his throat working as if to choke back angry tears of his own.

"Alistair," she began in a low, soft voice. "I don't want to part this way. We've been through too much together."

He paused for a moment, still looking down at his feet. When he looked back at Lhiannon, his tone had softened, if only slightly.

"Look, I came to wish you good luck; you'll need it. You have a lot to do. I suppose I do as well, now that I'm to be King." Without another word, he turned and walked away. Loghain's Joining was going to have a heavy cost. Alistair was a stranger to Lhiannon now; could he even be her enemy? Best to leave now before matters became worse. With a sad sigh, she continued to her room. Weisshaupt was looking more attractive by the second.

* * *

"Are you feeling all right?"

Loghain looked up from where he was filling his traveling pack to see Anora in the door of his chambers, a look of concern on her face. That particular look tore at his heart, as it always did. He hated seeing that look, especially when he was the focus of it.

"I've been better, but I'll manage."

Anora came into his chambers and began to help her father assemble his pack. She always hated to see him leave Denerim. Though they were known to squabble between themselves—the both of them more alike that either would care to admit—she always felt a deep sense of sadness when he left.

Loghain was likewise feeling melancholy about leaving Anora and Denerim. Yes, she had been queen for five years now and was a completely competent ruler, but to Loghain she was always his little girl back in Gwaren. She was forever in braided pigtails in his mind's eye, either running through the manor or riding with him on his horse. There was no finer daughter in Denerim, of that he was certain. He hated leaving her behind while the darkspawn threatened Ferelden. He would have much rather stayed at her side to defend her.

"Are you traveling to Redcliffe then?" Anora asked. She knew the Grey Wardens would eventually rendezvous with their gathered army there, however the silence in the room was deafening and she had to say something to fill it. Loghain continued to take the items that Anora handed him, filling his pack with extra clothing and supplies.

"Yes, the Grey Wardens will be heading there eventually, as they suspect the archdemon will ultimately show itself there." He paused for a moment and then scoffed. "I still can't believe that I'm one of them now. That was the last thing I expected."

Anora looked at him, a wan smile on her face. "I don't know what I would have done, had the Grey Wardens decided to execute you. I think I would have gone mad." She shuddered; she could not get the picture of a sword slicing through her father's neck out of her mind. She thanked the Maker that the Grey Wardens—Lhiannon anyway—did not go through with an execution. Alistair was another matter however and she would have to deal with that soon enough.

"Father, what do you think of this Grey Warden, Lhiannon? I spoke to her briefly before the Landsmeet. She seems a capable sort; she wanted to us fight the darkspawn and not each other, as I did."

Loghain finished placing clothing into his pack and tied it shut. He looked up at the wall, deep in thought for a moment. What did he think of the Warden? An excellent question, that.

"I thought her troublesome. She's a Grey Warden; it's no secret that I haven't trusted them since they returned to Ferelden years ago. They answer to no one and that alone is bothersome. They think they're above everyone else, that only they know what's best."

Loghain took his pack of extra clothing off the bed and moved it next to the door. He turned to his armor stand where he kept a set of studded leather armor. He thought about leaving it behind, but not knowing when he would be back in Denerim, decided to take it. He began to remove the armor from the stand, using the straps to fasten the pieces together to be carried in a single bundle.

"I think I underestimated her resolve," he admitted reluctantly. "I never thought she would be able to gather an army, not this easily anyway. She's a mage and there is a great deal of mistrust for them." He paused for a moment, turning to look Anora in the eye. "Perhaps she deserves some respect for what she has done."

"She does want to defeat the darkspawn; she is very determined to see that through. She wants to help Ferelden," Anora said. She went to Loghain's side and helped him secure the last of his armor, then carried some of the smaller pieces to his door as he carried the larger ones.

He set the pieces on the floor then turned and gently grasped Anora by the shoulders. He looked deep into her eyes, blue like his own. "Anora, I can't stress this to you enough: don't let the Orlesians into Ferelden. Don't let them try to help us. We Fereldens can turn back this Blight ourselves." Anora opened her mouth to protest, but Loghain held up a hand to stop it. "The Orlesians _will_ betray you; I've seen it before. You _must_ trust me on this. Empress Celene is Emperor Florian's daughter—the one who kept Ferelden under his boot; the one who kept Meghren on the throne. The apple does not fall far from the tree, Anora."

Anora had to fight back a sigh. This was an old argument between her and her father. She had mentioned bringing the Orlesians in once before in front of Arl Howe and her father had vehemently opposed it, ranting about them so angrily that Anora had to leave the room before she had said something she would later regret. However, she trusted him. He did have far more experience with Orlesians than her, and they were well known for brutal politics and treachery. It was a game to them. He had a point, she had to give him that.

"Father," Anora begun, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest, "I do trust you. Now that Ferelden is united, we will try this ourselves. I won't call on the Orlesian forces unless there is no other option." She pulled her head away and looked up at her father, her eyes growing hard. "But I will call them if I must."

"We _will_ succeed, Anora," Loghain said confidently, wrapping his arms around her, settling his chin atop her head. His heart swelled with love for her; he would do anything to protect her. "There will be no need for them. I promise you."


	3. Fireside

Lhiannon settled herself by the fire to begin her watch, her mabari warhound Tiberius at her side. The spot they had chosen for camp was in a small copse of trees between the road and a small creek that ran nearby. They had left Denerim earlier that day once the official business with the Landsmeet was finished. They were moving southwest toward Redcliffe to eventually join Arl Eamon and the armies by following the West Road toward Lothering. Lhiannon wanted to see what was left of Lothering on the way. Perhaps they would gain further insight into the horde and ascertain if the archdemon had made its presence known yet.

Lhiannon was quietly mourning the loss of her friendship with Alistair. She worked to keep her shoulders square and her chin up as they traveled, trying her best to keep a brave face on. As much as she wanted to show an air of confidence, she had been quiet and pensive all day, which had troubled Leliana greatly. Leliana had the first watch that night and when Lhiannon had come to relieve her, she had sat with Lhiannon for a few moments, concerned for her friend. "I miss your laughter," Leliana had said to her, taking Lhiannon's hand in hers. Lhiannon had sighed heavily and turned to Leliana, her eyes bright with tears.

"What if I've made Alistair my enemy now, Leliana? I wanted to stop the civil war. I thought making Loghain a Grey Warden would help us against the Blight. We _needed_ more Grey Wardens. Was it so wrong?" Lhiannon stopped, pausing for a moment to fight the lump that was forming in her throat. "I've betrayed him."

Leliana squeezed Lhiannon's hand, trying to offer what comfort she could. "Alistair is hurt and angry with you, that is true. I find it hard to believe he would consider you an enemy. The bonds of friendship between you are strong, but he needs time." She paused for a moment, gazing into the fire before speaking again. "The Maker guides our hands, Lhiannon. He called for you to show mercy to Loghain. Though we may not know the reason now, the Maker will reveal it in time. In that light, no, it was not wrong."

They had sat next to the fire for several moments, Lhiannon staring into the flames and watching them dance along the logs inside. Eventually she brought her hands up to her face, rubbing the skin and brushing the tears from her eyes. She held them there for a moment before bringing them down to her lap and staring at them. "I miss him already. I miss that silly grin and his silly jokes. I even miss how he burned everything when it was his turn to cook."

"Oh, I don't know that I would go quite _that_ far," Leliana quipped, bringing a small, wan smile to Lhiannon's face. "I believe that, in time, he will come to understand your decision, Lhiannon. You did what you believed was best for Ferelden. It was a difficult decision to make."

Lhiannon sighed, reaching over for Leliana's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I am unsure that he will, but I thank you for your kind words."

Leliana turned and gave Lhiannon a gentle hug before retiring to her tent. Somehow, talking about what happened helped Lhiannon feel slightly better and drive the doubt from her mind. Her thoughts still lingered on Alistair however. They had grown close in the months since Lhiannon's Joining. They had shared their nightmares and took solace from the other when the dreams were especially terrifying. They mourned Duncan's loss together and sought to avenge him in every battle with the darkspawn and by gaining their allies, thus weakening Loghain's position. Their friendship was special to her. They had not taken their relationship further than that however; she had cared for him too much to risk losing him forever had they become lovers and something go wrong. _Maybe I should have taken a chance_ , she thought bitterly, _since I've undoubtedly destroyed whatever friendship we had._ Loghain's conscription had better be worth the price paid.

Loghain had said little that first day on the road. He traveled by himself for the most part, making no particular overtures to anyone. Lhiannon had only spoken to him briefly; to tell him where and when to meet the group and what their destination would be. Tiberius, however, was fascinated with Loghain. Several hours after they had left Denerim she spotted him trotting by Loghain's side. She had noticed the way Tiberius cocked his head while looking at Loghain, one ear standing straight up. She had seen that look from her hound often enough to know that he was trying to figure something out. Loghain had even patted Tiberius on the head at one point, looking as relaxed as she had seen him thus far. Somehow, Tiberius had broken through the man's cold demeanor.

Lhiannon was gazing into the fire when the taint in her blood flickered. Closing her eyes, she opened her mind to it. It was not the sense of darkspawn approaching; thank the Maker for small favors. Loghain had awakened. Lhiannon reached over to the teapot that was always near the fire, poured water from her flask into it, and set it on the coals. He was going to have questions; it was only a matter of time now. Tiberius opened an eye to look at her, then rolled over onto his back, exposing his stomach for scratches. Lhiannon obliged him.

* * *

It was night, but unlike any night Loghain had seen before. He was in a valley or a chasm of some type, stone walls rising far above his head. The stone was so dark that it was hard to tell where it ended and the sky above began. The sky was inky black and no dim stars dotted the expanse. The darkness had a heavy, oppressive quality to it, blanketing him in a thick gauzy haze. It reminded him of the time spent in the Deep Roads, after he had set fire to the spider webs in the thaig he, Maric, Rowan, and Katriel were traveling through. His current surroundings were closely reminiscent of the thaig, which made him uneasy. He was not nearly choking to death this time however and instead of the clicking sounds of giant spiders, he heard an ear-piercing roar from behind him. He whirled about, automatically dropping his hand to the hilt of his sword and lowering into a crouch, looking for the creature that could make such a noise. From the darkness, the archdemon appeared and took sight of him, studying Loghain as if it were committing his features to memory. It roared again, displaying rows of massive teeth, sending icy fingers down Loghain's spine and hot, rotten breath into his face. He was terrified.

"Makers breath!" He felt himself rooted to the ground in terror, unable to move or breathe. The archdemon reached for him with its many teeth, looking to snap him up and swallow him whole—

Loghain awoke with a start and sat straight up, a cold, slimy sweat over his body. His chest heaved in and out as he fought to catch his breath and contain his terror. It took him a few seconds to focus on his surroundings before he realized that he was on his bedroll in his tent, his armor in a neat pile and his longbow and sword at his side. He had dreamed before about the darkspawn in the months after emerging from the Deep Roads so long ago, but those dreams were just that—dreams. Those dreams were jumbled and without reason or meaning; mostly disjointed images. Sometimes they included cheese, which Maric would have found endlessly entertaining. He never awoke from them feeling like his heart was going to hammer its way through his ribs and out his chest.

"It seemed so bloody _real_ ," he muttered to himself, running his hands through his dark hair in an attempt to smooth it out. With shaking hands he picked up a discarded shirt, poured some water from his flask on it and wiped his face, resting his head in his hands after he finished. The cool water helped to drive the last tendrils of the dream out of his mind. After a few moments his hands ceased their shaking and his breathing returned to normal. He was grateful that he was inside his tent rather than sleeping on his bedroll in the open. He bristled at the thought of his "companions" seeing him shaking like a scared little girl over a bad dream.

He sensed that it was still several hours yet until sunrise. He had slept little and his mind told him that returning to sleep this night would be impossible. _If I'm going to be awake, I might as well do something useful_ , he thought irritably. His bow needed to be restrung; working with his weapons and armor always seemed to bring him some ease. He went to his pack, dug out a clean longshirt and leather trousers, and dressed quietly. Grabbing his bow and supplies, he exited his tent and looked toward the campfire.

Lhiannon was on watch, sitting next to the fire with the warhound; the first and last person he wanted to have as company. She looked up at him when she heard his exit from the tent. Tiberius turned his head toward Loghain, then relaxed again as Lhiannon absentmindedly scratched his stomach. Loghain paused for a moment before walking over and sitting down on a log nearly across from Lhiannon, avoiding the smoke the drifted lazily from the fire. She looked at him as he sat, one eyebrow raised in silent questioning.

"Was it the archdemon?" she asked.

"What?"

"Your dream—was it the archdemon?"

"How did you know…?" Loghain growled. "Ah yes, the taint. At least I passed your little test. Fate does indeed have a sense of humor."

If his response put Lhiannon off, she did not show it. "Yes. The taint not only allows us to sense the darkspawn, but also other Grey Wardens. We can also sense some changes in the taint."

Loghain was silent for several moments, gazing into the fire. Lhiannon saw that his stare was intense and brooding. She returned her gaze to the fire and waited; she thought that he would either say something soon or skulk back to his tent. If he was just going to sit there and glower like a scolded child, she would rather he returned to his tent. His reputation as a taciturn man was certainly well earned. He turned and looked at Lhiannon. "Are all dreams after the Joining so unsettling?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "Not all of them; at least, not all of mine. Regular darkspawn don't seem to trouble me so much any longer. Whenever I dream about the archdemon however, I find myself having trouble sleeping for days. I understand some Wardens can block the dreams, but I haven't had such luck." Lhiannon shivered involuntarily, wrapping her arms around herself. "Wynne has herbs that can help bring dreamless sleep. I brew them into a tea that I'll take before bed. It helps." She gestured to the teapot, bubbling merrily among the coals of the fire. "Would you like some tea?"

"No."

"Perhaps next time then," Lhiannon shrugged. She laced her fingers and stretched her arms above her head, listening to the crackle of her joints as she reached overhead. When she was finished, she picked up her mug and filled it with steaming tea; plain this time. She would save the herbed tea for when she really needed it. For the most part, she enjoyed her turn at keeping watch. There was something about the fire and a simple cup of tea that always left her with a feeling of contentment. She doubted contentment would come this night however. Absentmindedly, she reached down and scratched Tiberius on his stomach again; he snorted and sighed with delight.

Loghain began working with his bow. It was a rich brown color and looked old, but well cared for. Lhiannon noticed the deftness of his fingers in stringing it. How many times had he done that? Had he memorized every bump, every nick, and the feel of every individual grain? _He could probably restring the bow in his sleep_ , she thought. He was adjusting the tension on his bow when he spoke.

"Warden, I would know the reason behind your actions at the Landsmeet."

"First off, you need not call me Warden. Lhiannon will be fine."

"As you wish, _Lhiannon_ ," he scowled at her. This was certainly off to a fine start then.

"I'll certainly tell you what I can. What is it you wish to know?"

"Why did _you_ participate in the duel? Why not send  Maric's bastard instead?"

She thought about how she would answer for a moment. He said nothing, but continued to work on his bow. "The others look to me as a leader. When the time came for the duel, I was the natural choice. I was rather anxious about it."

He stopped working on his bow and looked at her. "Why?" he demanded.

"Why?" Lhiannon snorted, "you were standing there in your heavy armor, with an enormous shield in one hand and long sword in the other—staring down a female mage and ready to defend Ferelden to the death—and you ask me why I was anxious? You were an intimidating sight! I went forward with it because you weren't a templar. I knew I had a very good chance against you with my magic. A templar could have drained my mana and sliced me to bits before you could say 'Andraste's mercy'."

Loghain growled. "Magic," he spat. "That is the _only_ reason you bested me. Had you not cast magic, we would not be here."

"I don't disagree."

Satisfied with the tension on his bow, Loghain set it aside. He turned to his pack and brought out shafts and arrowheads to begin crafting new arrows. Lhiannon knew he was an accomplished archer during the rebellion. Another archer among them would be an asset when the time came for scouting out darkspawn. That was one thing Alistair was never very good at. With his size and his noisy plate armor, he was about as subtle as an ogre. The whole bannorn could hear him crashing through the underbrush. Lhiannon sighed wistfully.

Loghain was fashioning an arrow when he spoke again. "And what of the decision to make me undergo the Joining? Wouldn't it have been easier to execute me for my crimes?"

Lhiannon scoffed. "My intention was to see you stand trial, not simply remove you as a threat." She paused, waiting for him to look her in the eye. It took several moments of silence before he looked up at her. When he did, she stared at him intently. " _I_ do not believe in summary executions."

He glared at her for a moment before breaking eye contact, staring into the fire between them. She saw a dark look cross his features briefly before he set his jaw and continued to work on his arrows. She felt a ripple through the taint that told her she hit a little too close to the mark for his liking.

"Becoming a Grey Warden could be seen as a slow execution," she continued after a moment of profound silence. Loghain again shifted his eyes to her, wary. Lhiannon continued. "Our bodies can only fight the taint for so long. Thirty years give or take. There are too few Grey Wardens in Ferelden as it is and we need someone of your skills. It is the perfect way for you to atone for your crimes and help defeat the Blight."

"Maric's bastard would have been content to have me executed," he growled.

"Then you should consider yourself fortunate that _I_ am the senior Grey Warden and not him." Lhiannon paused, waiting for Loghain's reaction. Seeing no appreciable one, she continued. "You are a war hero.  A brilliant tactician. The legends have you and King Maric fighting off the Orlesian usurper and his armies with your bare hands. I know that's just what the tales say, but having you among the Grey Wardens is an asset, not a detriment. Much can be learned from you. No matter what my personal feelings are on the matter, the Grey Wardens require someone like you."

"It is no secret that I distrust the Grey Wardens," he began, his voice unyielding. "They answer to no one and have proven themselves treacherous in the past. There were Grey Wardens involved with the Orlesians at the Circle not so long ago, as I'm sure you're well aware. The First Enchanter captured Maric and was going to send him off to Orlais as a prize. Maric said the Grey Wardens weren't directly involved in that, but I had my doubts. I still do." He paused, gathering his thoughts. He turned and leaned toward Lhiannon, pointing an accusing finger at her and speaking in a cold, deadly voice.

"If you are using the Blight as a ruse to aid the Orlesians, I will separate your head from your neck, Grey Warden or no. This I promise you."

Lhiannon leaned toward Loghain herself, closing the gap between then. She glared into his blue eyes, the venom in her voice clear. "I can assure you that I don't give a _damn_ about Orlesians. _They can_ _rot_. I know all too well what  Remille did to the Ferelden mages and templars when he took over Kinloch Hold. I am working to _stop the Blight_.  Just like _you_ are now."

They were silent for a long time, listening to the sounds of the camp, the popping of logs on the fire, and Tiberius' snoring. _At least someone is getting some sleep_ , Loghain thought. He had finished fashioning the arrows and sat by the fire, staring into it. Lhiannon had finished her tea and set the cup aside. She had her head turned toward the sky, studying the constellations as they rotated overhead. After some time passed, Loghain turned his head toward Lhiannon, but did not look at her directly.

"I must thank you," he said quietly. Lhiannon looked at him, confused. _First he threatens to separate my head from my neck, and then he thanks me_ , she thought. She furrowed her brow. "Thank me for what?"

"You could have had me executed in front of my own daughter. Thank you for sparing her that sight." He gathered up his belongings and returned to his tent before Lhiannon could answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, I struggled with this chapter a bit. I didn't want Lhiannon and Loghain's first post Landsmeet conversation to be completely hostile, but I didn't want it all wine and roses either. I hope this is a fair compromise.  
> Thank you again to everyone who has bookmarked, read, and reviewed the story. We're going to meet an 'old friend' soon...


	4. Morrigan's Request

As the horizon began to flood with colors signaling the impending dawn, Lhiannon rested a pot on the fire to begin cooking the morning meal. Usually it consisted of porridge and whatever fruits they bought from the market or found while scouting the area for the campsite. This morning brought several pieces of fruit she had from their stay in Denerim. She finished adding the porridge to the simmering water and walked toward the tents to awaken the others. Most everyone had begun stirring and were easily roused. Oghren, however, was still snoring lustily in his tent. _By the Maker, he could sleep through the entire Blight_ , Lhiannon thought. Of course, the dwarven ale he had consumed the night before did not help matters much. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of the vile brew. Lhiannon poked Oghren with her staff.

"Oghren! For the love of the Maker, would you get up?" Oghren snorted and mumbled something sleepily, something about the ancestors no doubt. His favorite curses included references to the ancestors; or tits and arses. Lhiannon turned her head and whistled softly for Tiberius, who happily bounded to her side. She held open the flap of the tent and motioned for the warhound to go inside. Tiberius rushed in, barking at Oghren and batting him with his large paws.

"By the tits of my ancestors! Get your sodding dog off me!" he roared, flailing his arms and scurrying off his bedroll. Thankfully, he had fallen asleep in his clothes; Lhiannon was grateful for that. A naked dwarf would have been a nasty surprise to behold.

Lhiannon laughed. "If you had woken up the first time, I wouldn't have had to send Tiberius in here. Let that be a lesson to you."

"You sound like a sodding, nagging wife," he mumbled to her, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

She whistled at Tiberius, who bounded out of the tent and ran off toward Loghain; he had just exited his tent and was watching the exchange warily. Tiberius seemed to be the only one willing to make friends with the newest Grey Warden at the moment.

"You'll miss breakfast if you don't get moving." She closed the flap of the tent before he could reply.

Soon after the meal, they were on the move again toward Lothering. The group was spread out a bit, never out of sight from one another in case trouble arose. Loghain generally stayed toward the middle of the pack. As they traveled over the next couple of days, he found himself contemplating his fellow Grey Warden. _She has to be half my age at bes_ t, he thought. She was of average height, with straight brown hair she tied at the nape of her neck with a rawhide cord. Her eyes were dark brown, the black center barely perceptible from the color around it. He knew that she was a mage, but clearly there was more to her than that. She did not wear the traditional robes of a mage, but wore simple chain armor. That she bested him with both magic and a dagger at the Landsmeet disturbed him to some extent.

Loghain had remembered her vaguely at Ostagar; she was the new recruit that Duncan had brought in to camp, fresh from her Harrowing at the Circle of Magi. He had not spent much time dwelling on that, as he was busy with Cailan and his delusions of grandeur. He sighed, as he always did now when thinking of Cailan. What would Maric and Rowan say? He was sure that somewhere in the beyond, they hated him for what he did. He probably deserved it. Maker knows he would have to answer for it someday.

Loghain observed that everyone in this little band would, one by one, approach Lhiannon during the day for several minutes of quiet conversation. Maybe they found her easy to talk to. She seemed thoughtful enough, knowing when to speak up and when to hold her tongue. She appeared to have the sort of personality that drew people to her; even Morrigan got along with her, so that was saying something.

They had traveled for a short while further when the group decided to stop for a few moments to rest the horses and stretch their legs. Loghain looked up to see where Lhiannon was ahead of him, walking ahead of her horse and leading it to a nearby stream. This time she was alone, thank the Maker; it always seemed like _someone_ wanted her attention all the time. How ironic that he felt it was his turn now. With a gentle nudge to his horse, he quickly caught up to her and dismounted beside her, leading his own horse to the water. She turned to look at him with a curious expression.

"Loghain," she said cautiously.

"I've been thinking," he began, keeping his eyes on the water. "You doubtless consider me a monster; even more so since I survived that Joining ritual. You kept striking at me yet I refused to die decently."

She tossed him a perplexed glance and shook her head. "I don't think you are a monster, Loghain."

He turned and looked down at her; she thought he looked slightly amused at her answer. "You lie poorly, you know." He paused for a moment, turning back toward the water ahead of them. "It is kind of you to say however."

They reached the stream, allowing their horses to drink deeply. They stood there for a minute in silence, each apparently with more to say but either unsure how to say it or waiting for the other to continue. Lhiannon was absentmindedly stroking the neck of her horse. After a time, it was Loghain who broke the silence as he secured the reins of his horse to a nearby tree limb.

"Much has happened between us in the recent past. I think it's safe to say that both of us have tried to do what we could to eliminate the threat of the other. Nevertheless, we must find a way to settle things between us before we move forward." He paused, giving his words a moment to sink in. "So, what's it to be then?"

Lhiannon shrugged, tangling the reins of her horse next to his. "What's done is done. We're going to have to work together, Loghain. It's just that simple."

Loghain turned to face her again, an eyebrow raised in questioning or amusement; Lhiannon was not sure which. "Is that a punishment for me or for you?" She chuckled lightly and surprisingly Loghain did as well. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed her arm, startling Lhiannon. She took in a sharp breath, gasping. Sten took notice from nearby, reaching behind him for his great sword, but Lhiannon turned her head toward him, holding up a hand to signal that all was well. She turned back to Loghain and saw him looking at her closely, studying her with those disconcerting blue eyes of his.

"So, just like that we're to be allies then?" he asked sharply, snapping his fingers for emphasis. "After all that has happened between us? I don't know what sort of concession you want from me, _Warden_. I suppose my _word_ that we are allies will not satisfy you."

Lhiannon straightened her back and stood tall in front of him, her posture indignant. She refused to be intimidated. "We became allies the moment you survived the Joining. Even so, I need to _know_ that I can trust you, Loghain. You are correct; much has happened between us before now. Nonetheless, we are _both_ Grey Wardens with the same goal: end the Blight."

He waved his hand dismissively at her. "Words," he snorted derisively, "nothing I can say will prove that we are allies. My actions will either prove it themselves, or they won't." His eyes narrowed at her and he continued. "You did not spare my life at the Landsmeet by accident. I don't believe that the least bit. You have some sort of plan in mind." It was not a question.

She met his steely gaze with one of her own. _Don't let him intimidate you_ , she thought to herself, _you know he's good at it_. "I am giving you a chance Loghain; I expect you to take it," she replied sharply, pointing her finger at him for emphasis.

Unexpectedly, Loghain grinned at her. "Fortunate for me then that I am a man accustomed to taking chances."

He released her arm, remaining at her side for a few minutes seemingly deep in thought as Lhiannon brushed her horse. It nickered softly. Lhiannon was certain that their conversation was not finished just yet, so she patiently waited for him to collect his thoughts. It gave her time to reflect on what just transpired. When Loghain spoke again, his voice sounded somewhat subdued and melancholy.

"This situation we find ourselves in—all of it—can truthfully be called my fault. I had done what I thought was best, but I am by no means perfect. Whether or not you can do any better to save Ferelden from this calamity remains to be seen. If it means anything to you, I hope that you _can_ do better than I have." He stopped again, looking straight ahead. Lhiannon stopped brushing her horse and turned to face him. His expression looked hard and he grimaced. Suddenly, he reached out and grasped her shoulder firmly and placed the fist of his free hand over his heart. He looked her dead in the eye and spoke to her with conviction.

"I don't know how much my word means to you, given our history. But if you can make this calamity end, then I shall follow you. _This I swear to you_."

Lhiannon blinked, surprised at his sudden oath. Soldiers and nobles, even former ones, usually did not give oaths lightly. She was impressed. Perhaps there was a shred of honor left in the man after all. "Then I am glad to have you, Loghain." She held out her hand.

He snorted, then shook it firmly. "We shall see how long _that_ lasts."

They gathered up the reins to their horses and walked side by side in silence back toward the road. Lhiannon thought back to her conversation with Anora at Howe's estate, how she claimed she was in danger. She seemed so honest about it. She looked at Loghain with a lopsided grin.

"May I ask you something?"

"As you wish," Loghain replied.

"Anora insisted she was in danger; she was so sincere about it. Would you have _really_ threatened her?"

The corner of Loghain's mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, "Anora has always had a flair for the dramatic. Were she not Queen, she would have been an excellent bard."

"But why would she fabricate such a story then? I bought it, you know."

Loghain chuckled, amused; it sounded genuine. "Anora is a politician through and through. She knows how to move people in any way she likes, like pieces on a game board. I've been a victim of it myself, many times."

"But why me then?"

Loghain chuckled again. "Was there anyone else in all of Ferelden that could have stood up to the Landsmeet?"

Lhiannon scoffed, "Probably not."

* * *

They were standing on the elevated roadway looking down at what was left of Lothering. There was very little. The stink of corruption, decay, and smoke in the air was so strong they could taste it. Most of the buildings were in complete ruins either by the fires that had raged through the town or by the destruction that could only have been done by ogres. Pieces of buildings were strewn about as if the ogres took them apart with their bare hands to get to the occupants inside.

Then there were the bodies. They were everywhere. Those that were not burned to shriveled husks appeared to have been pulled apart limb from limb. Others looked like the darkspawn had partially devoured them. Lhiannon's stomach was slowly rolling inside her and she fought to keep her recent meal in its place.

Loghain was astounded by the devastation wrought here. He had seen more than enough of what the darkspawn corruption had done to the Deep Roads—black tendrils reaching out in all directions and covering everything in its path. The stench seeped into the pores of one's skin and clothing and lingered there long after one was away from the corruption. Thankfully, what small breeze puffed by them was enough to lessen the stink. He could see the telltale signs of corruption on some of the remaining walls and the bridge covering the river. Most of the corruption had burned away in the fires, but some still remained. He did not know if it would spread now that the horde had moved on. They had been here recently, however, and he thought it best if they moved on as well.

"Lhiannon," he said cautiously, "we should not linger here long. The darkspawn have been here recently and could easily return." She nodded slowly, still taking in the destruction of Lothering. "I agree. I don't sense them, but that means little."

They followed the road out of Lothering and set up camp near where the ancient road to Ostagar joined it. They had decided to keep two people at a time on watch with the recent darkspawn activity in the area. Wood was gathered for a fire and Loghain and Sten went into the nearby forest to hunt for food. Lhiannon had just returned from a nearby steam with several full water skins when Morrigan appeared. She took a couple of the skins and helped Lhiannon carry them back to the camp.

"I have been studying the grimoire of Flemeth's that you brought from Kinloch Hold."

Lhiannon nodded at her, setting the water skins down by the fire and motioning Morrigan to sit on one of the nearby logs. "Yes, I've noticed you reading it quite a bit when we make camp. Have you learned much from it?"

Morrigan looked at her, an anxious expression on her face. Lhiannon had never seen Morrigan look quite like this before. Whatever she had discovered in the grimoire, it was not pleasant.

"No, not what I had hoped. I had hoped that it would teach me more of Flemeth's magic. 'Tis instead a book detailing how Flemeth has lived such a long life." She shuddered, involuntarily wrapping her arms around herself and turning toward the fire, rocking back and forth. Lhiannon leaned toward her and put her hand on Morrigan's arm. Morrigan jumped like a scared rabbit and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Morrigan," Lhiannon began softly, trying to soothe the mage's obviously frayed nerves. "What was it you learned? How does she do it?"

"She…she…raises a _daughter_ , and when her body is ready to die, she possess her daughter's body and claims it for her own. The daughter's essence…dies…and Flemeth is essentially reborn." She shuddered. "I am to be next!"

"Oh Morrigan…"

Morrigan turned to fully face Lhiannon, snatching her hands in hers and pleading with her, eyes wide with terror. "Lhiannon, you must help me! You _have_ to help me."

"What is it you want me to do?"

Morrigan seemed to calm somewhat. "I _will not_ let her take me. I need you to go to her hut…I cannot go with you…you have to kill her and find her _real_ grimoire…"

Lhiannon sat up with a start and stared at Morrigan with wide eyes. " _Kill Flemeth?_ Kill your _mother_? Wait, why _can't_ you go?"

"Because if I am there, she could immediately possess me, especially if she knows that I know what she's planning." She shook her head rapidly. "No, I cannot go with you. You have to kill her and find her _real_ grimoire. Anything else you find in her hut is yours; I care not about anything else. I can use the real grimoire to protect myself from her in the future…in case she does survive. She's…not human…so anything is possible."

Lhiannon thought about it for a moment. The Korcari Wilds were not too terribly far away and if Flemeth was going to be a threat to Morrigan, she was a threat to them all. They needed fewer enemies for the upcoming battle with the archdemon, not more. Aside from her nasty attitude, Morrigan was an extremely competent mage; they would be significantly weakened if Flemeth destroyed her. She looked at Morrigan and curtly nodded.

"All right Morrigan. I'll see what can be done."

"Thank you my friend," she sighed gratefully. "The sooner 'tis done, the sooner my mind can be at ease." With that, Morrigan turned and went to her own small campsite, grinning in both relief and triumph.

Lhiannon watched her go with a bewildered look. She had never seen Morrigan look this…desperate…before. What Morrigan must be going through was beyond her imagining. It had certainly seemed like Morrigan hated the only woman she knew as her mother, but Lhiannon believed that somewhere inside the acerbic mage, Morrigan did love Flemeth like any little girl would love their mother. The realization that Flemeth was using her as an incubator had to shake Morrigan to her core.

Lhiannon had stacked some wood for a fire in preparation for Sten and Loghain's eventual return from their hunt. After the wood was stacked to her satisfaction and a number of rocks placed around the fire pit, Lhiannon held her hand toward the pile and murmured a spell to create a ball of flame. The flame danced from her hand to the wood and began to burn merrily.

* * *

Sten and Loghain returned a short while later with a number of rabbits as their bounty. They were quickly skinned and put on spits to roast over the flames and before long the enticing smell of roasted rabbit began to fill the campsite. Lhiannon's stomach rumbled appreciatively. While dinner was cooking, she decided to take her armor down to the nearby stream and clean it; it was absolutely filthy. It stank of the darkspawn corruption and that was something she did not want assailing her nostrils any longer than necessary. As she neared the stream, she could hear someone else there—as she approached she could see that it was Loghain. He had removed his heavy plate armor and was scrubbing it clean with a rag. He looked up as he watched her approach and nodded.

"Lhiannon," he greeted her evenly.

"Loghain."

They both cleaned their armor in silence. She thought about what Morrigan asked of her as she scrubbed between the links of her armor. Would Flemeth try to possess Morrigan before they turned back the Blight? Morrigan was a powerful mage and her shape shifting abilities were unique among them. Her loss would be great indeed. Perhaps Loghain could give her some counsel; he wanted to show that he was trustworthy? Here was his opportunity.

"Loghain, you have been to the Korcari Wilds before, yes?"

"Yes," he said evenly.

Lhiannon nodded. "We have business there."

Loghain said nothing as he continued to clean his armor. Lhiannon waited a moment to see if he would say anything. She was about to continue when he finally spoke. "What sort of business?"

"Morrigan's mother lives there. She is an apostate mage and we…"

Loghain stopped cleaning his armor and turned to look at Lhiannon. "Morrigan's mother is an apostate living in the Wilds?" He gave her a guarded, yet calculating look. "Is she very old?"

Lhiannon looked at him with a degree of surprise. "She looks it. The Chasind call her 'The Witch of the Wilds'."

"Maker's breath," Loghain swore as he shook his head in disbelief. "It _must_ be her…"

"You know of Flemeth?"

He scoffed derisively. "Is that what she calls herself? Yes, I have met her once. I can see now where Morrigan gets her charming personality."

Now Lhiannon was curious. When could Loghain have crossed paths with Flemeth? "If you don't mind me asking, how did you encounter her?"

Loghain sat back and set his armor aside, gathering his thoughts for a moment. "Maric and I had just met. I had taken him to the camp that my father was in charge of. The usurper's men had been chasing Maric after they killed Queen Moira. We hadn't known at first that Maric was the prince; I had only found out right before the usurper's men attacked our camp." Loghain's eyes became far away. He paused, seemingly lost in thought.

"Maric and I ran for our lives after the usurper attacked. We ended up in the Wilds and were eventually captured by a band of Dalish elves. They took us to this 'Woman of Many Years'. It wasn't a pleasant meeting. She had taken Maric into her hut and spoke to him for several hours, making him promise never to speak of what they discussed. And he did not, save for one thing. The witch told him a Blight was coming. He took it very seriously. I didn't believe her; that was something any idiot soothsayer could have said." He paused for a moment, giving a small sigh. "I suppose she was right about the Blight after all however."

"Morrigan wants us to kill her."

Loghain looked at her, his brows raised with curiosity. Lhiannon explained what Morrigan had told her earlier. He listened thoughtfully, nodding and rubbing his chin on occasion. When Lhiannon was finished she caught his eye with her own and tilted her head questioningly.

"So, what say you?" she asked.

"Are you certain such a delay is necessary?"

Lhiannon thought about it for a moment before answering. "Morrigan is a competent mage, her acerbic attitude aside. If we lost her, it would be a serious blow to our chances against the Blight."

Loghain paused for a moment, looking at the water in the stream trickling by. "As much as I don't care for the witch, I happen to agree." He turned to look at Lhiannon, a corner of his mouth curved slightly upward in amusement. There was a dangerous glimmer in his eyes that she had never seen before. She found herself smirking along with him.

"I think, perhaps, it is time to pay her a visit," he said, his voice dark and malevolent. "She has much to answer for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tiberius' name? Not from the Roman Emperor Tiberius. I picked it from one James Tiberius Kirk. Yes, I'm a Trekkie as well (just of the shows; I DO NOT dress in costume!). :)_


	5. The Past Resonates Forward

As they set out toward Flemeth's hut, Lhiannon noticed that her uneasiness grew the closer they came to Ostagar, its remains not far away. She and Alistair had returned to the ruins before they went to Denerim for the Landsmeet. It was not something they had wanted to do, but felt they _had_ to do. Ostagar drew them like moths to light. Darkspawn were crawling through the ruins, desecrating everything they touched. They had found all the pieces of King  Cailan's armor among the creatures; Alistair had it now, as he should. They had also found Cailan himself, strung up on the ruins of the bridge connecting the old camp to the Tower of Ishal. He had been putrefying in the sun for all the darkspawn to see. They had cut him down and burned him on a pyre, as befitting a king. Alistair had even removed some of the ashes. He may not have known his brother well, but he still felt Cailan's loss as King.

They had also found some correspondence in the ruins that Lhiannon felt could have pushed Loghain into some of the actions he had taken. She wondered if he knew about it. _He must have,_ she thought, _how else could some of the recent events be explained?_ Could they have been the source his erratic behavior? Arl Eamon had told her and Alistair that Loghain was not acting like himself. Eamon had said he had known Loghain for a long time and seizing power and ambition was not like him.

When they made camp Lhiannon noticed that both Loghain and Wynne looked distracted and irritable. If Ostagar's proximity was bothering Lhiannon, she imagined that it was affecting them as well. After they had eaten the evening meal, she noticed Loghain walk off toward a small lake that was nearby. That was not unusual; he would generally clean his armor at camp or would sit by the lake in quiet contemplation. A short while later, Lhiannon heard voices coming from near the lake, male and female. Loud voices. The others had heard it too. With a wave of her hand, she bid them to stay behind and got up to move toward the lake. As she got closer, she could hear the sounds of intense arguing. She came through a small tree line to see Wynne and Loghain standing near the shore of the lake, nearly nose to nose.

Wynne was shouting at Loghain, her cheeks reddened in anger. "I was lucky to escape Ostagar with my life after you decided to quit the field!"

"Oh, so you did not rush to the King's rescue either? Then I am not the only one that left him to die!" Loghain sounded furious, fists balled at his sides.

"I wasn't a general at the head of an army," Wynne pointed at him accusingly. "I could never have reached him in time."

Loghain moved closer to Wynne and Lhiannon could see the red anger on his face as well. "And I was no mage with magic to break the darkspawn ranks! But maybe you think the army and I should have tried anyway. No doubt the lives of mere soldiers mean little in the eyes of the Circle."

"And what of the soldiers that died with King Cailan? Did their lives mean nothing to you? Were they just pawns in whatever game you were playing?" she spat back at him.

Loghain lowered his voice, but the venom in it did not abate. "You think so, do you? I _knew_ their names. I _knew_ their families. I do not know how you _mages_ determine the value of things, but I know _exactly_ how much was lost that day. Cailan was beyond saving; all he could think about was glorious battle. How he and a mere handful of Grey Wardens could take on an entire _army_ of darkspawn. I warned him off the front lines, but he refused to listen. The darkspawn would have had him or had us all. I _know_ how much we lost that day, woman, regardless of what you think you know."

Lhiannon quickly ran over and put herself between them, pushing each of them away from the other. They had looked about to come to blows. Loghain's fists were visibly shaking and she could sense magical energies around Wynne. Lhiannon found that had the situation not been as highly charged, she would have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. She looked to each of them in turn as she spoke.

"That is enough between the two of you," she said sharply. "We can't change the past and we need to work together to defeat the darkspawn. Neither of you help our cause by dredging up such things."

Wynne looked at Lhiannon, flabbergasted. "I can't believe you're defending _him_. After everything he has done."

"I am not defending anyone. What I'm doing is trying to tell you that arguing amongst us suits no purpose other than to cause division. We need to be fighting the darkspawn, not each other. So act like the adults you are and stop squabbling like children!"

Wynne was not to be moved. With a final glare at Loghain, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the camp. Loghain took a step back from Lhiannon's hand and looked at her quizzically, the anger still clearly evident on his face.

"Don't look at me like that Loghain." Lhiannon snapped at him. "I don't agree with many of the decisions you made recently, but I can understand where some of your anger with King Cailan came from."

"Do you?" he sneered at her. "How can _you_ possibly know?"

Lhiannon motioned for him to remain where he was. She sighed; it was an exasperated sound. "Hold here a moment, Loghain. I'll show you." She turned to head for the camp.

Loghain paced along the water's edge, his anger creating a nervous energy that he had to try to burn off. Wynne. That sanctimonious mage, how dare she question him when she did not know all the facts. The suggestion that he did not care about his soldiers made him even angrier. Ever since he became a commander in the rebel army, he always felt profoundly responsible for the lives of his men. They were not to be taken lightly, thrown away in a wasted effort; Ostagar would have been a wasted effort. Soldiers had people who depended on them too, and Loghain would do anything to make sure his soldiers returned to those people. It was a grave insult indeed to accuse him of taking their lives lightly.

Lhiannon returned several minutes later with a satchel in her hand. She approached Loghain and opened it, handing him several pieces of parchment with the broken wax seals still attached. One had the seal of the Arl of Redcliffe; the other two had Orlesian seals on them. She was not entirely sure she should be sharing them, as it was possible they would pour more fuel on the fire.

"We found these at the ruins of Ostagar. I'm not completely certain I should share these, but they do pertain to recent events. However, you are Anora's father, and you certainly have a right to know what is in them if you don't know already." She held the letters out to Loghain, who looked at them guardedly. He could sense her apprehension. He reached a hand out to take them, scowling as he recognized the Orlesian seals. He slowly opened them and began to read. He read them twice, the expression on his face stony.

"That cheating bastard," Loghain said through gritted teeth, his voice both deadly and repulsed. He looked at Lhiannon, his finger pointing at the letter accusingly. "Do you see how the Empress speaks to Cailan in a familiar tone? Like they were already rutting together and ready to cast Anora aside? As if Anora wasn't already married to Cailan? It certainly sounds like he was ready to marry that bitch Celene. And what would Ferelden have then? A foolish king who could prance about calling himself an Emperor!

"And Eamon to have been involved! I had heard rumors that he brought it up to Cailan; that he should set Anora aside because she hadn't given him an heir yet. Eamon automatically assumed that the fault was with Anora. I heard Cailan had fought bitterly with Eamon at first, but perhaps Eamon's constant needling wore Cailan down. Eamon, then, is just as culpable!"

Loghain handed the papers back to Lhiannon as if he had touched something foul and then began pacing angrily again. She tucked the papers back into her pack. She wanted to say something to him, but also wanted to be cautious as to how she said it. Right now, he was like a poisonous viper; he was capable of striking at anything. She steeled herself for his spite, then spoke.

"I can understand your anger, Loghain."

Loghain stopped pacing and whirled around to face her, his eyes still flashing with fury. "You _understand_?" he started, the sarcasm plain in his voice. "And how could you possibly _understand_? _You_ don't have a child. _You_ did not build a nation from the ground up with your closest friends only to see their son nearly throw it all away!"

Lhiannon kept her voice calm and soothing, trying to bring his anger down. "I may not have a child, but I know you must have felt angry at King Cailan. You felt he betrayed Anora. She's your _child_ ; as her father you would do anything to protect her. Even kill if you had to."

Loghain stared at her, eyes narrowed, not sure of what to say. Before he could say anything, Lhiannon continued. "And you must have felt that everything you, King Maric, and Queen Rowan worked for would crumble to dust if Cailan married Celene, with Ferelden and Orlais becoming one. All the fighting, the sacrifices, would have meant nothing. You were concerned that Cailan would have destroyed everything the rebellion fought for."

Loghain glared at her, surprised and wary, unsure if she truly could understand how Cailan's betrayal affected him or if she was just placating him with talk.

"But even though I can understand your anger, Loghain," Lhiannon began again, her voice cautious, "your anger blinded you and made you less objective, which lead to poor decisions."

Loghain rushed up to her, standing so close to her face Lhiannon could feel his breath on her cheeks. He loomed over her, the anger coming off him in palpable waves. "So what was I to do then, just _let_ Cailan brush Anora aside for that _fucking bitch_? _Let_ Cailan open his arms to Orlais and have them walk right in? And you're right; Cailan would have destroyed _everything_ we fought for. Ferelden would have become part of Orlais without a sword being raised. I _would not_ let that happen. Lest you forget,  Celene is Florian's _spawn_ and she wound not deign to rule her new empire from Denerim." Loghain paused and Lhiannon could see the cold fury in his eyes, his voice rising with each word he spoke until he was nearly shouting at her. "So yes, my anger did influence my judgment because _it was right_." He turned and walked off several paces.

"And did your righteous anger influence the decision to have Anora held captive?" Lhiannon began, feeling her own irritation beginning to come to the surface. "At Howe's estate no less? You _knew_ Howe was a lunatic and you put _your own daughter_ in danger by leaving her with him! He tortured nobles and commoners for his own twisted pleasure. Is _that_ something a rational father does? Allowing that man within shouting distance of the Queen?"

Lhiannon hit a nerve. Loghain's face filled with rage, his fists visibly shaking at his sides once again. He rushed toward her, looming over her. Lhiannon thought for a brief moment that he would strike her and she nearly challenged him to try. " _How dare you_ suggest I put Anora in danger!" he snarled at her. "Everything I have done was to protect her _and_ Ferelden. You know _nothing_ , _Warden_. Get out of my sight."

* * *

Loghain sat alone on a rock outcropping at the shore of the lake not long after. He could feel his body shaking in anger after the argument with that sanctimonious mage Wynne. Lhiannon's theories about his anger and behavior leading up to the Landsmeet were no better. Lhiannon _dared_ to think that he would put his own daughter in danger just to seize the throne for himself? That would make him no better than the bloody Orlesians. Everything he had done since before  Cailan's death was to protect the crown and Ferelden from the Orlesians and the Blight, in that order. He had worked too hard and sacrificed too much over the years to ensure Ferelden remained strong and independent. If protecting Ferelden required that he commit acts that many would consider unsavory, then so be it. He would do them again and gladly, no matter how they ate at his conscience.

Loghain had experience with Orlesians in the flesh; they were calculating and brutal, seeking to better their own positions by trampling on the weak or less fortunate. While Loghain could see the benefit in weakening the positions of rivals, the Orlesian "game" was beyond even his scruples. The darkspawn he had only dealt with once before; he had not been convinced that what they were seeing on the surface now was a true Blight. The Orlesians, both those Cailan invited to Ferelden and Orlesians in general, unnerved him far more that the darkspawn.

Loghain's thoughts turned to Arl Howe and Anora. He had known Rendon Howe a long time. If Loghain had few friends, Howe had far fewer. Bryce Cousland was a friend of Howe's and while Loghain considered Howe an acquaintance, the term "friends" was likely stretching the truth. Howe was a man that could get things done, especially the things that most nobles would have turned their noses up at. That was the main reason Loghain kept Howe among his acquaintances; they were more alike than different in that respect.

Loghain had suspected for some time that Howe had a dark side. Rumors had been circulating in Denerim of late that Howe enjoyed inviting rivals to his estate for an evening of entertainment only to have them end up in his torture chambers. The rumors also said that Howe himself took part in most of the tortures. No one was exempt from his dark side, not even women.

His thoughts stopped and Loghain suddenly came to a realization. What if having Anora held at Howe's estate _was_ a mistake? Would he have truly resorted to torturing _her_ if the situation in Denerim changed? If somehow Loghain had begun to listen to the Grey Wardens about the Blight and threw in his lot with them, would Howe have truly sunk that low? The answer, when it came, caused a pit to form in his stomach.

_ Yes.  _

Howe very well could have sunk that low. Guilt and revulsion washed over Loghain in a palpable wave. Leaving Anora with him could have had disastrous consequences, had the situation changed at all. With Anora captive and the Couslands all but wiped out, the only thing standing between Howe and the throne would have been the regent Loghain himself. At that point, Howe could have used Anora for ransom, the price being the throne itself. Running his hands through his hair in exasperation, Loghain realized that Lhiannon was right; leaving Anora with someone like Howe was not something a rational father did.

Perhaps Lhiannon deserved an apology. The thought ranked him; admitting mistakes did not come easily to Loghain and the assault to his pride was great indeed.

* * *

Lhiannon sat near the fire, Zevran at her side doing his vulgar best to make her smile. As usual, he could. He was telling one naughty limerick and joke after another and she laughed until her sides began to ache and the tears ran down her cheeks in force. She thought she would need to cast a healing spell to ease the pain in her aching ribs. This, of course, set Zevran to even higher levels of vulgarity. He had such a dirty little mind.

Lhiannon had been wiping tears off her face from the laughter when she heard a polite clearing of the throat from behind her. She turned and immediately stopped laughing when she saw it was Loghain behind her, looking for her attention.

"Lhiannon," he began evenly, "may I speak with you privately for a moment?"

Zevran looked at Lhiannon, one eyebrow raised as if to ask if she would be all right alone with him. She held up her hand to show that all was well, then stood. Loghain indicated with his hand a small grouping of trees at the opposite side of the camp and they began to walk toward them. When they had moved out of sight and earshot of the camp, Lhiannon turned to Loghain, a hard expression on her face and her arms folded across her chest.

"What is it you want, Loghain?" She made no attempt to hide the chill in her voice. "Here to make more snide comments?"

He looked at her, his face neutral. After a moment composing his thoughts, he took a deep breath and began. "Since the Joining, you have treated me with kindness and respect. There are few who would have been able to do so in your place. I fear that I may not have reciprocated to you in kind, and for that, I apologize."

Lhiannon could not stop the astonished expression she knew came across on her face. She had been prepared for more of his anger and venom; an apology was the last thing she expected.

"You are right," he continued, "we need to focus on fighting the darkspawn, not each other. You have my word that it shall not happen again."

Lhiannon ran a hand through her hair, not quite believing what she was hearing. She felt no sense of deception from him. He had certainly caught her off guard. "I accept your apology, Loghain. Thank you. But I don't want you to think that you should hold back because you want to avoid a confrontation. I want to hear your thoughts; I may not be fond of them, but I want to hear them."

"Be assured that I shall tell you, though you may indeed not like some of them."

She scoffed, "That's probably true."

He paused again and Lhiannon sensed that there was more he wanted to say. She waited patiently while he mulled over his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

"May I ask a question?" she asked tentatively.

Loghain sighed wearily. "As you wish."

"What made you reconsider what I said?"

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. He then ran his hands down his face and took a deep breath, his voice low and grave. "Anora. I believe I may have put her in danger by leaving her with Howe."

Lhiannon cautiously approached Loghain and put a hand on his forearm. Her touch was light and her hand warm; it was likely meant to offer comfort or understanding. He did not need to be coddled like a child and wanted to pull away from this invasion of his personal space.

"What's done is done. We can't dwell on the past; it doesn't help our cause. We can only move forward. I'm willing to do that if you are."

Loghain nodded, backing away from her hand and breaking the invasive contact. "I thank you."

Lhiannon nodded in return. "Come, Loghain. Let's head back to camp. You're due to start watch soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In DA:O/Return to Ostagar, I loved how Wynne and Loghain bickered amongst themselves the whole time and I wanted to include some of that here. It's also part of my Grey Wardens' journey to find some common ground. I think I may post one more chapter today...I promised you Flemeth after all!_
> 
> _Thanks to all who are following along and reviewing. I appreciate it a great deal!_


	6. Reacquainted

Several days had passed since they left Lothering and they eventually found themselves near the place Morrigan had once called home. As they neared Flemeth's hut, Morrigan became more nervous and agitated. Lhiannon could not blame her; coming this close to Flemeth—knowing now what Flemeth's plans were—would put her on edge too. They set up camp several hours walk from the hut. Morrigan would go no further and actually felt they were too close already, but she acquiesced.

Lhiannon and Loghain had discussed who should go with them to visit Flemeth. Since they had both agreed to put the past behind them and move forward, they each found the other easier to work with. The wariness between the two of them began to fade as they realized that they both had Ferelden's best interests at heart. They still did not agree on everything, but knowing they both had the same goal made compromise easier to achieve.

Recently, Lhiannon had found herself turning to Loghain often for his tactical advice. He was far more experienced in battle than any of them, naturally, so she found in him a wealth of information. There was no talking Loghain out of staying behind while Flemeth was dealt with; he was going to go with her to Flemeth's hut and stubbornly refused to hear otherwise. Whatever had transpired between Flemeth and Loghain years before, he seemed anxious to go and exact some sort of revenge. They took Wynne along, just in case the abomination that was part of Flemeth decided to put up a fight. Her protective spells would help them in case the situation deteriorated that far, which Lhiannon felt was all but inevitable. They also agreed to take Sten along as more muscle. Loghain had not gone into all the details with Lhiannon when he told her about the last time he was here, but simply insisted that more brute force would be better than less. Something about the way Loghain had said that made Lhiannon uneasy, so she asked Sten come along; he was happy to oblige.

Leaving the camp behind, they made their way through the Wilds to Flemeth's hut, the trees and swamps becoming thicker and more numerous the farther they progressed. The very air seemed impossibly oppressive, like invisible hands pushing against their skin from all sides. Lhiannon was brought back to when she first traveled through the Wilds, gathering the darkspawn blood to be used in her Joining. She remembered her first encounter with a darkspawn; it had frightened her so badly that she had trouble sleeping for days and even when she did sleep, the nightmares constantly ravaged her mind. As they traveled deeper into the Wilds, Lhiannon could sense Loghain's growing unease through the taint.

"Loghain? What troubles you?"

"It's nothing," he replied tersely.

Lhiannon noticed that Loghain was carefully watching the trees around him, looking at several species and guiding their party away from trees that looked otherwise innocuous. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword. "Be wary of the trees," he finally murmured quietly several minutes later. Lhiannon was puzzled, but nodded her understanding. There must be sylvans nearby, not the most encouraging thought. She could be chanting a lot of fire spells then. They continued their journey and it was not long before they spotted a lazy column of smoke rising in the distance, signaling to them that the appearance of the hut was imminent.

To no one's surprise, Flemeth met them in the doorway of her hut when they arrived. She appraised the group serenely as they approached, munching on an apple as her eyes fell upon them one by one in obvious appraisal. She no doubt noticed that their hands were near their weapons. If that concerned her, she gave no outward sign.

"Ah, and here you return," she addressed Lhiannon, a sly grin crossing her face. "I wondered if you would be coming back to visit me. I see you've brought some new friends with you. I do hope Morrigan is well." She took one last bite from her apple, tossing the core into the brush surrounding her hut. The branches moved ominously as something took interest in the discarded morsel.

Flemeth walked out from the doorway, assessing each member of the group in front of her in turn. She had not paid much attention to Sten and Wynne, giving them little more than a curious glance, but stopped in front of Loghain and studied him intently. After a moment, a slow smile began to spread across her ancient face and a raspy chuckling came from her throat. The sound sent shivers down Lhiannon's spine. Loghain had kept his face stony and unmoving, but Lhiannon could sense the taint roiling within him.

"Now _you_ I remember," she said, pointing a finger at him. "You look much older now though. Much has happened in the years since you were last here; I can see it all written in the lines on your face. I wouldn't have thought _you_ would come visit me again. I do hope you've learned some manners since the last time you were here."  Flemeth guffawed wildly. "You were so _rude_ as a younger man."

There was a rustling sound from behind them. Loghain saw out of the corner of his eye that the trees were moving ominously and he could hear Flemeth chuckling quietly. He certainly did not want a repeat of that experience from the last time he was here. Being strung up within the trees once was one time too many as far as he was concerned. The urge to reach out and snap her neck was so strong it nearly overpowered him. He looked Flemeth directly in her rheumy eyes and answered as calmly as he could. "You would hardly think so, madam."

Flemeth shook her head sadly, the trees moving back into place. "Oh? That's too bad. Some people never learn." She turned her back and took several steps away from him. "I told the King that a Blight would come, and so it came to pass." She turned around and looked at Loghain again, a knowing grin crossing her ancient face. "I also said you would betray him, each time worse than the last. You do remember that, don't you?"

Loghain remembered all too well the words she spoke to Maric as they stood outside her filthy hut those many years ago. "Maric was my friend and my King," Loghain growled at her, the grip on his sword tightening.

"And what does that mean? That you could not or would not betray him because he was such? That is all the more reason for you to have done exactly that," Flemeth said, her mouth turning upward in a grin and she scoffed laughingly. "And what of King Cailan? Does that not count as betrayal against King Maric? Betrayal of the worst kind?" Lhiannon saw Loghain's face begin to color, the depth of his anger so great she did not need the taint to sense it.

Flemeth turned back toward Lhiannon, pointedly ignoring Loghain. "So Morrigan has you dancing to her tune now, does she? She does play some enchanting music, yes?"

Lhiannon regarded her evenly, her voice firm. "We know your little secret, Flemeth."

Flemeth laughed malevolently. "Really? Which secret would that be? I have so many; it's hard to keep them all straight. What sort of plot has she conjured up this time?"

"Morrigan sent us here to destroy you and with good reason."

Flemeth laughed again as if she had heard an amusing joke, her voice taking on a strange timbre. "My dear, there are many, many reasons to kill Flemeth; many more than you could ever know. More than the stars in the sky." She began to slowly pace back and forth in front of the group, gathering her thoughts. The air around them began to feel stifling and heavy. Lhiannon began to feel uneasy; there was great magic here, like a vortex of energy beginning to slowly swirl around them.

"If I had to venture a guess, Morrigan has discovered something. Something so disturbing to her that it requires her to defend herself, yes?" Flemeth slowly shook her head back and forth as if not quite believing herself. The magical feel to the air was increasing and by this point even Loghain and Sten, who had no magical aptitude, began to feel the power growing. Loghain's eyes shifted warily from side to side, the hair on his neck beginning to stand on end as he watched for approaching danger.

"It is an old tale, one that Flemeth has heard before and even told herself from time to time." She stopped directly in front of Lhiannon, her eyes boring into Lhiannon's with bright malevolence.

"But let us not waste any more time and come to the end of the story. Do you slay the old witch as Morrigan would demand of you? Or do you decide that this tale should have a different ending?"

Lhiannon looked at her evenly, the determination set in her eyes and body. She would not allow this, _thing_ , to threaten them. She began to call upon her own magical power.

"We need Morrigan. Period. I will not allow you to threaten her."

Flemeth held up a finger as if an idea crossed her mind. "Ah, but there is power in both choice and lies. I shall give you one of each. Morrigan wishes to have my true grimoire? Fine; to the victor go the spoils. Take it to her and tell her I am dead."

"Absolutely not," Lhiannon spat.

Flemeth's eyes narrowed. "So then, what shall it be?" The feel of magic in the air was now so heavy that is was almost palpable. Lhiannon raised her staff and the crystal at the tip began to pulsate with power. The others drew their weapons as well.

It was Loghain who answered, stepping toward Flemeth menacingly. He had waited a long, long time for this moment.

"You die."

Flemeth walked around the group toward a clearing not far from the hut, the eyes of the others following her warily. When she spoke again, her voice sounded deeper and more resonant with the power of the demon within her. A rustling sound could be heard as the magical power they felt began to coalesce around Flemeth like a cocoon.

"This is a dance that Flemeth has done before. Let's see if she remembers the steps, shall we? You will earn what you wish to take or you shall perish. It will be no other way." With a wave of her hand and a flash of light, a high dragon stood where Flemeth was an instant before. It roared a challenge at them.

"Maker's breath!" Lhiannon breathed, stepping backward almost involuntarily.

"Spread out," Loghain barked to the others. "Don't stand together!"

Sten and Loghain began to move around the dragon in opposite directions, hoping to flank her. Wynne scrambled out of the way and began to cast protective spells. Lhiannon moved off to a small hill slightly above the group and raised her staff above her head. She began to cast a blizzard spell and aimed it at the dragon. It roared in fury as the ice and snow began to pelt its hide and it turned to look at Lhiannon menacingly.

A subtle glow settled onto Sten and Loghain as Wynne completed a spell guarding against fire. She immediately began to chant a healing spell and prepared to send it out to whoever needed it first.

Sten and Loghain had managed to flank the beast, slashing its hide with their swords. Lhiannon had temporarily enchanted their weapons with ice and the dragon roared in pain whenever a blade sank into its flesh. It would turn to bite at the warriors, who spent as much time dodging its many teeth as they did actively attacking. With a sudden movement, its tail slashed out from behind it, knocking Loghain off his feet and away from the beast. The dragon turned to regard Sten, who was moving away from the beast's head, his great sword held in front of him and challenging the beast in the Qunari tongue. Loghain had regained his feet and came close to the dragon, sinking his sword up to the hilt into the base of its neck.

The dragon reared up on its hind legs, Loghain barely able to keep his hand on the hilt of his sword. The dragon's motion forced the blade out of its hide and Loghain backed away to avoid being stepped on when the dragon landed on all fours again. The dragon turned its head and looked down at Loghain, narrowing its eyes at the warrior. With a movement so quick the group barely had time to register it, the dragon reached down and snatched Loghain up in its maw and squeezed, shaking its head from side to side. Loghain unleashed a primal scream of terror and pain, the sound of metal shrieking and bones crunching loudly in his ears.

" _Loghain!_ " Lhiannon screamed in panic, her concentration broken and the blizzard spell petering out. With a whip of its head, the dragon tossed Loghain from its mouth like a toy. He landed not far from Lhiannon, bounced once on the ground, and was still. The dragon then turned its attention to Sten and began to approach him menacingly.

Lhiannon rushed over to Loghain. He was writhing on the ground in terrible pain, blood oozing from both his nose and mouth and eyes rolling back in his head. His armor has been pierced in several places and she could see bright blood seeping through the holes. She quickly chanted a healing spell, but knew that his wounds were far beyond her abilities. She looked up, searching frantically for Wynne.

"Wynne," she shouted, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. "To me! Loghain is hurt!" Wynne ran over to where Loghain lay, putting her hands on him and chanting a spell.

"Get him on his feet," Lhiannon commanded, moving to place herself between the dragon and where Wynne was tending to Loghain. The dragon had kicked Sten out of the way and turned to face Lhiannon, its eyes blazing. It roared at her, daring her to confront it. Fear washed over Lhiannon in a wave, causing a cold sweat to break out on her skin and leave it feeling clammy. She forced the fear down and stared up at the beast, raising her staff threateningly.

"You shall not touch them," she growled at the dragon, beginning to chant another blizzard spell.

With a great hissing sound, the dragon began to fill its lungs and Lhiannon nearly froze. It was going to breathe fire all over them. She continued to chant the blizzard spell with a more urgent pace, moving backward to stand closer to Wynne and Loghain. She was aiming the spell in front of where she stood. She hoped that it would be enough to cover the three of them until Sten could get back on his feet and draw the dragon's attention away.

With a roar, the dragon began to breathe fire at Lhiannon as she cast the spell in front of her. Waves of fire spread all around her but the spell was able to keep the flames away from herself and the others behind her. The air around them heated rapidly and threatened to bake them alive. With a groan of effort, Lhiannon turned her head slightly to regard Wynne.

"How is your mana?" she shouted at the mage. Wynne had to shout back at her over the roar of the fire. "It's low, but Loghain is healing."

"Do you have any lyrium flasks?"

"Yes," Wynne shouted back.

The dragon had expended its breath and began to draw in a second one. Lhiannon felt the fear beginning to sink into her stomach. Her own mana was running low and she was not sure how long she would be able to keep casting. She reached into her pouch, found a lyrium flask and quickly drank it down. She tossed the bottle aside and turned her head to Wynne. She could see Wynne helping Loghain to his feet. He looked shaky, pale, and nowhere near completely healed. Lhiannon watched a subtle glow envelop Loghain as Wynne administered another healing spell.

"Take as much lyrium as you can right away. I'll need to be healed soon."

Wynne looked at her, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

" _Just do it_!" Lhiannon roared. She chanted the blizzard spell again as the dragon let loose with another volley of fire. She could feel her  mana depleting rapidly and hoped that the fire would stop before her spell gave out. The fire stopped abruptly and Lhiannon could see Sten back on his feet. He was slashing the dragon in the side, drawing its attention toward him with his blade and war cries.

_ This isn't working _ , Lhiannon thought. Flemeth would easily wear them down in moments and then it would be finished. There was only one other thing she could do. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at Wynne. "I'm sorry," she told the mage. Loghain, now more steady on his feet, was looking at her, puzzled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As always, THANK YOU to everyone who is following along. It's very encouraging and keeps me wanting to do more._


	7. The Dark Power

The dragon was snapping at Sten repeatedly, the large warrior swinging his great sword wildly at the beast in an effort to both fight it off and draw its attention away from the others. Sweat and blood ran down his face in rivers. His breathing was becoming ragged from the exertion and it would only be a matter of time before the dragon struck a critical blow.

Loghain stood unsteadily on his feet, feeling like dozens of daggers were cutting and plunging into his flesh. His head spun madly and it took all his concentration to keep his eyes focused on any one thing. He could feel the gentle warmth of the healing magic Wynne was casting at him. The pain in his body diminished somewhat, but Loghain knew that he was still seriously injured and that pain would likely be his companion for some time to come. He looked over to where Lhiannon stood nearby, her jaw set and a determined look on her face.

Lhiannon took her staff and placed it between her teeth. She drew her dagger and wrapped her other hand around the blade, quickly drawing it out and opening a large wound. She hissed in pain and drew the blade across her palm a second time. With the blood flowing freely, she put her dagger back into its sheath and took the staff from her mouth. Wiping the blood on the crystal at the top of the staff, she began to chant. Dark red power began to pulsate from the end of her staff and she aimed it at Flemeth. The spell raced toward the dragon and hit it full on. The beast screamed in pain as it tried to bite at the source of its agony.

Lhiannon's strength began to rapidly weaken as the blood was seemingly pulled out of her hand to fuel the spell. She felt the tickle of healing magic and knew that Wynne was trying to keep her on her feet. From the corner of her eye Lhiannon saw a silver flash as Loghain painfully lurched toward the dragon. He reached the beast and sank his sword into its neck and pulled, opening a wide gap. Sten, on the other side of the dragon, was also opening a large wound on the neck. Blood poured from the openings and landed on the frozen ground, sending up tendrils of steam around the warriors and filling the air with a harsh, coppery smell.

The beast's strength finally began to falter under the onslaught of steel and blood magic. Lhiannon had switched back to a blizzard spell and was pelting the dragon all along its body with ice and snow until it began to accumulate on the weakening beast. The dragon's head finally sank toward the ground and with a defiant war cry, Sten plunged his great sword through the beast's eye and skull, the hilt landing on the flesh with a wet thud. The great dragon's head crashed to the ground, the body trembling once before it became still.

Loghain sank to his knees where he stood, exhausted and still feeling the effects of his mauling by the dragon. Wynne hurried over to him to check on his remaining injuries, giving Lhiannon an ugly grimace as she passed.

Sten stood where he was next to the dragon, his large body shaking with exertion and the aftereffects of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He pulled his sword from the dragon's head and began to wipe the blood and gore off it. He then began to pry scales off the hide, tucking them into his armor.

Lhiannon was likewise pale and exhausted. Her mana was nearly depleted and she was weak and dizzy from blood loss. With shaking hands she pulled a healing flask out of her pack and drank it, grimacing as the bitter liquid coated her mouth. She felt some of her strength returning and watched as the wounds on her hand began to knit themselves closed. She quickly followed it with a lyrium flask, regenerating some of her depleted mana. Bending over, Lhiannon gently laid her staff on the ground. With her hands on her knees and her head hanging low, she tried to calm her breathing and stop the world from spinning around her. The potions she just drank would do her no good if she could not keep them down.

After a few moments centering herself, Lhiannon walked over to where Loghain sat on the ground, his battered armor lying next to him and his torn and stained longshirt sitting on top of the pile. He was grousing at Wynne while she bandaged his wounds. He was obviously in a great deal of pain, but would heal. Lhiannon was relieved; if Loghain was being irritable, he would be fine. She knelt down beside him and reached out to where Wynne was bandaging Loghain's chest and abdomen.

"I'll continue here. Why don't you go check on Sten?"

Wynne looked at her angrily but Lhiannon simply nodded _. I suppose she's not too happy with me right now_ , Lhiannon thought. Wynne nodded briskly in return, noticeably relieved, and walked off toward Sten.

Loghain shook his head at Lhiannon. "Your bedside manner will be less hostile than hers, I hope? I think the woman was disappointed that I wasn't a meal for that dragon."

Lhiannon began to wind the bandages around Loghain's chest, using a gentle touch that he was appreciative of. He relaxed visibly. "Well, Flemeth did spit you out, so you must not have been as appetizing as she thought you would be."

Loghain scoffed and chuckled, wincing in pain. "It is my bitterness and lack of manners I suppose," he said, grimacing through the throbbing in his chest. "Turns out it was good for something after all." His breathing was quick and shallow, as drawing deeper breaths caused intense pain to radiate through his chest and back.

"Hold still, Loghain," Lhiannon gently chastised. Placing on hand on his bandaged chest, she closed her eyes in concentration and began whispering softly. She could feel the strong beating of his heart through the bandages. The tickle of healing magic flowed through her and into Loghain, spreading gentle warmth throughout his body. He watched her as she spoke the words to the spell, her voice soft and comforting. The sharp pain began to fade to a dull ache.

After a moment, her mana drained, she opened her eyes; he was looking directly into hers, those blue eyes studying her carefully as if gazing into the depths of her very soul. She found she could not tear herself away from his gaze; she was enthralled by it. In that brief moment, she studied his face. There were small wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and near his nose, but even so, time had been kind to him. He looked younger than his years. Her heart began to pound in her chest.

"That is about all I can manage right now," Lhiannon explained nervously, breaking eye contact and feeling a slight flush in her cheeks; she hoped he had not noticed. "My magic is mostly offensive but I do know a basic healing spell or two." She left her hand on his chest a moment longer, then hastily drew it away, picking up the remaining bandages and shoving them into her pack.

"Thank you," he said quietly, suspecting something had just passed between them, but was unsure of exactly what. "I appreciate it."

Lhiannon looked at him with a humorous twinkle in her eye. "What _I_ would appreciate  is you not to get eaten by any other creatures before we get to the archdemon. Not only would it be rude to stand up the beast, but we wouldn't have much of a partnership with you digesting in some creature's belly." She smiled at him, thanking the Maker that he would be all right.

Loghain joined her smile with a small one of his own. He gave her a small, courtly nod. "I shall do my best then to not disappoint the archdemon with my rudeness."

* * *

It was nearly dark when Lhiannon and the others returned to camp. Flemeth's grimoire was neatly tucked into Lhiannon's pack. It was not the most pleasant trip back for Lhiannon, as Wynne had bitterly chastised her the minute they set out on the road.

"How could you do it? You used _blood magic_! That is against _everything_ you were taught in the Circle."

Lhiannon, still exhausted and feeling irritable besides, snapped back at Wynne. "What else was I to do, Wynne? Pick up a sword and fight it myself? The dragon had just mauled Loghain and you were busy healing him. Sten was down. That left me as the only one able to face it directly. Those were poor odds—I am no warrior! I had to do it to save all of us. And I used _my own blood_ to fuel the spell—not the blood of another. There was no other choice!"

"Where would you have learned such a terrible spell? Certainly not at Kinloch Hold." Wynne snarled at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What have you done?"

Lhiannon sighed, an exasperated and sad sound. "Does it matter? But no, I didn't learn it until after my Harrowing and Joining." She stopped for a moment, rubbing her aching forehead. "I learned it as a spell of last resort, something to use if I was faced with no other option. If it means anything to you Wynne, I don't believe in using the blood of others to fuel spells."

Wynne scowled angrily. "I thought you a better mage than that. Blood magic can corrupt you. There is _never_ an acceptable excuse to use it. It will make you a maleficar! If it was our destiny to die out there then we should have! Do you _want_ the templars to hunt you down?"

"Flemeth wasn't backing down, Wynne. All she had to do was wear us down for a few more minutes and it would have been over. Blizzard spells weren't doing enough damage fast enough. Do you think I _wanted_ to use blood magic?"

Wynne would have none of Lhiannon's reasoning. "It doesn't matter that you did not _want_ to use it; you did it anyway. All you've done is put yourself on the path to becoming a maleficar."

Loghain had finally had enough of Wynne's sanctimonious attitude. A few quick strides brought him to where Wynne and Lhiannon were arguing. "Do you want to be rotting in the swamp and having Flemeth decorate her hut with your skull, woman? Because I assure you, that is exactly what would have happened."

Wynne threw her hands up in disgust. "What you fail to understand is that she defied everything she was taught to save _your_ miserable life.  And for what?"

"And you were there as well, so it was your life that was also spared. Or do you not _remember_ that?" Loghain sneered at her.

With a scoff, Wynne angrily walked ahead, putting significant distance between herself and Lhiannon. Lhiannon could her Wynne muttering to herself as she stomped off.

Lhiannon sighed, rubbing her forehead. She did not regret the decision to use blood magic. It had to be done. It was either that or die at Flemeth's hand and all would have been lost. Wynne was a true product of the Circle however, and perhaps she would never understand it. Would she inform the Circle? What if the templars did come?

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Loghain walking beside her. "I overhead what she said to you. You did what was necessary. Never doubt that."

Lhiannon nodded her thanks and Loghain removed his hand from her shoulder, a small prickle running through her as he did. She furrowed her brow. _That was strange,_ she thought.

They had reached the edge of the camp when Loghain put a hand on Lhiannon's forearm to catch her attention. "Lhiannon, hold a moment, if you would." Lhiannon stopped and turned to look at Loghain, a questioning look on her face.

"Yes?"

Loghain removed his hand from her forearm and ran it through his hair as if to gather his thoughts. When he spoke to her, he kept his voice low so that the others in camp would not overhear them.

"I understand you've been to Ostagar recently and I'm sure it still holds...unpleasant...memories for you."

Lhiannon's eyes narrowed and she looked at him suspiciously. "It does," she agreed, the caution evident in her voice.

Loghain nodded his understanding. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I find myself wanting to make peace with what happened there. Don't ask me to go into the details of it right now. It is something I need to do."

"You ask me to go to Ostagar again?" she asked indignantly, placing her hands on her hips and staring at him with fire in her eyes. "With you? If you wish me to even _entertain_ this notion, you'll have to do better than 'it's something I need to do'".

Loghain sighed irritably, shaking his head, knowing he would likely regret this. "I want to make peace with what happened there and that means seeing it myself. Believe it or not, I'm not doing this to gloat over what happened there. I made my decisions based on what I thought was best at the time. I simply need see it for myself."

Lhiannon could feel no sense of deception through the taint. She was unable to ascertain anything from his expression. "Are you certain about this? And what about the others?" she asked, motioning toward the camp with her hand. "Do you think _they_ would wish to go there again?"

"I was hoping we two would go. It would be quicker that way. The others need not come. They can remain here."

Lhiannon frowned, her brow furrowed as she stared off into the distance pondering his request. This probably was not the best idea, considering what they had just went through in the Korcari Wilds. The delay in their journey would be a double-edged sword. On one hand, the others could rest, allowing their niggling injuries to heal. On the other, it would be another delay on their way to Redcliffe; several days all told. She sighed, putting her hand up to her ear and fussing with the earrings there. She and Alistair had all but dragged the others to Ostagar so they could find _their_ peace. Who was she to deny Loghain the same if he sincerely wished to find _his_ peace? Since she could feel nothing like deception from him, she had to believe in his sincerity.

"Very well, Loghain," she sighed, resigned. "We shall leave in the morning." Loghain nodded his thanks.

Lhiannon turned and walked into the camp, not knowing if Loghain followed. She gathered the others around the fire and told them of the short delay in their journey. There were many questions and several accusations against Loghain and what ulterior motives he may or may not have, but in the end agreed to remain in camp while Lhiannon and Loghain made their trip to Ostagar.

* * *

It was early, the sun not even over the horizon yet. Lhiannon was in her tent putting supplies in her pack when there was a polite cough from outside the flap. She rose to open it and saw Morrigan on the other side, a pack of her own in her hands. "May I come in?" she asked quietly.

"Please," Lhiannon said, motioning her inside. Morrigan entered and tied the flap shut behind her, turning to face Lhiannon with a stony look on her face.

"You know that I believe this quest is folly, but I cannot stop you," she began haughtily, kneeling on the floor of the tent and opening her pack. She began pulling out a number of poultices and lyrium flasks. "If I cannot stop you from going on this fool adventure, I can at least make sure you have plenty of healing supplies with you. Your healing magic leaves much to be desired."

Lhiannon knelt next to her and smiled, taking the offered supplies and putting them into her own pack. "Thank you, Morrigan. I think."

"You can best thank me by coming back in one piece. And if you happen to lose Loghain along the way, I'll not shed any tears." Lhiannon rolled her eyes at Morrigan, the expression both humorous and exasperated. "I also have a suggestion, if I may?"

"Of course, Morrigan."

"As you know, we are not far from Flemeth's abandoned hut. 'Tis a more defensible spot than our camp here. There will be residual magic around it that will keep us safe while you are gone."

Lhiannon thought that sounded like an excellent idea. "I hadn't thought of that. All right, take the others to the hut. Make sure everyone gets the rest they need," Lhiannon told her. "This will almost certainly be the last break we get for some time, so take advantage of it."

"And what about you?" Morrigan asked, concern in her voice. "You should be resting as well. The dreams are taking a toll on you, 'tis plain to see."

Lhiannon nodded in agreement with Morrigan, rubbing her aching forehead as she did so. "They are, but they won't be going away as long as there is a Blight to contend with. I'll make do, Morrigan."

Morrigan looked down at the ground, running her fingers through her bound hair. "I wanted to thank you for what you did; dealing with Flemeth. I shall rest easier now, knowing that she won't be coming for me any time soon."

Lhiannon took Morrigan's hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're welcome, Morrigan." Lhiannon released Morrigan's hand and then stood, gathering her pack and weapons. She moved toward the door, Morrigan right behind her. "Well, I should see if Loghain is ready to go."

"Good luck to you," Morrigan scoffed. "You'll likely need it."

Lhiannon exited her tent into the camp to find Loghain kneeling near their supply cart, securing his own pack and placing arrows into a quiver. She saw that he had decided to take his longbow with them, as they would probably need to go hunting at some point. They were traveling light, which meant they would leave most of the provisions behind with the rest of their group while they waited for Lhiannon and Loghain to return. Traveling lighter meant they could make quicker progress to Ostagar.

Loghain was leaving his damaged heavy plate armor behind for Bodahn to repair. In its place, he wore studded leather armor. Lhiannon was not sure what type of leather it was, but it looked sturdier than regular leather armor and had to have cost a small fortune. Lhiannon was still wearing her light chain armor, as it had not been heavily damaged in the battle with Flemeth. She knew how to make light repairs on the links; it would give her something to do when they made camp. She secured her staff to the rigging on her back as she moved away from her tent. Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she approached Loghain.

"Are you ready?"

Loghain stood as she approached, securing the quiver to his back. "Yes. Let's be off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _We're taking a little side trip on our march to Redcliffe. We'll be well on our way there soon._


	8. Where it All Began

Loghain was a quiet traveling companion, speaking only when necessary. If an hour's worth of conversation passed between them all day, Lhiannon would eat the end of her magic staff. The lack of conversation did nothing to ease the edginess she had been feeling all day. Though the weather was perfect for their trip—the sun that made it through the treetops felt wonderful on her exposed skin—she could not shake the edginess she felt. She knew it was not just because she was with Loghain on his pilgrimage to Ostagar; it felt like the dreams would be coming with a vengeance tonight. She was glad she brought Wynne's herbs with her. The flagon of wine probably would not hurt either.

They stopped beside a pond not long before the sun went down and tethered the horses near the water. Loghain took his bow and went hunting while Lhiannon built a fire and set a pot of water on it to boil. She spread out her bedroll and sat down, removing her upper armor and inspecting the links for damage. She began to hum absentmindedly as she repaired the damaged links she found.

Loghain had been standing just beyond where they made camp; several skinned and cleaned ground squirrels in his hand. He had stopped short when he heard Lhiannon humming to herself as she repaired her armor. He listened to her for several minutes; she was humming a tune Leliana would sometimes sing at camp. It was a song about love and loss that Loghain had found strangely peaceful. He supposed it was the tune itself rather than the words. Leliana had the trained voice of a bard, deep and resonant. Lhiannon's humming was sweeter and he found himself oddly fascinated with it. Lhiannon's voice was soothing and he had to reluctantly admit to himself that he enjoyed listening to it. Shaking his head to break the trance, he entered their small campsite and began to skewer the squirrels to cook over the fire.

Lhiannon looked up at him briefly when he entered camp, pausing in her humming for a moment. She caught a flicker in the taint, but was unsure of what it was. She shrugged and went back to mending her armor, absentmindedly humming again, quieter this time. If she could just figure him out, that would put her mind at ease. The man was nothing short of an enigma.

Loghain sat on the other side of the small fire, occasionally turning the meat so it would cook evenly. Lhiannon could see out of the corner of her eye that he was occasionally watching her; it made her uneasy. His eyes were intense and unsettling sometimes. After he had turned the meat again, he sat back and resumed watching her as if trying to figure something out.

"Aren't you a little old to have just gone through your Harrowing?" he finally asked.

Lhiannon looked up at him, her eyebrow raised. "I'm not the oldest mage to have gone through the Harrowing, you know," she snorted. "My abilities didn't manifest until I was in my teens."

"Just how old _are_ you?" he asked, eyes narrowing at her questioningly.

She scoffed at him. "Don't you know it's impolite to ask a lady her age?" Loghain raised an eyebrow at her. "If you must know," she continued, "I am in my thirtieth year."

_ Anora's age?  _ "You don't look it." Loghain was surprised; he would have sworn to Andraste herself that Lhiannon was at best half his age and a number of years younger than Anora.

She grinned widely. "I thank you for the compliment."

By this time the meat had finished cooking and Loghain handed Lhiannon one of the spits. They ate in silence, both concentrating on their meager dinner. When she was finished, she set the stick in the fire and picked up her chain armor again. She was making good progress on the repairs and she wanted to finish before she turned in for the night. She was also hoping the busy work would help calm her edginess.

"When did you switch to wearing armor?" Loghain asked her. "I seem to remember you wearing traditional robes when we first met."

Lhiannon nodded as she fished a new metal link from the small pack at her side. "You remember correctly. However, I was ran through the stomach once by a hurlock's sword. Not the most pleasant experience. After that, I started wearing chain armor."

Loghain began to fashion more arrows to replace a couple that had broken during his hunt. His eyes kept flicking back toward Lhiannon on occasion. He could sense her edginess, not all of it through the taint either. She caught his eyes once, raising her brows in question. He scowled at being caught and looked back down at his arrows. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, for which he cursed himself, and looked up at Lhiannon.

"I thought magical abilities manifested themselves in childhood."

Lhiannon looked up, surprised at the question. "For the most part, yes. Sometimes the abilities don't manifest until a mage is older. Sometimes a traumatic experience triggers it."

"And you were simply older?" he asked, smoothing the fletching on the arrow in his hand.

Lhiannon sighed, setting her chain armor aside. This was turning into an uncomfortable conversation, especially since it was Loghain asking her the questions. He was usually indifferent about these things and it made her wonder why he was suddenly so interested in her now. It was probably just to pass the time. She pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing at the tenderness there. "Not exactly. There was also trauma involved. To be honest, Loghain, I'd rather not discuss it."

He nodded curtly. "As you wish."

Lhiannon picked up her armor and resumed searching for damaged links. Loghain's attention was turned to the fire, warming himself next to it and adding wood when it burned low. He sat with his legs crossed, forearms resting on his knees and Lhiannon nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke.

"Tell me, how was it _you_ became a Grey Warden?"

Lhiannon looked up at him, raising one of her brows and smirking at him. "What, you didn't have me investigated once you knew I was becoming a threat to you?"

Loghain scoffed, a corner of his mouth turning up in a sardonic grin. "Of course I did. I learned much about you but there were gaps in the information. I knew you had a spot of trouble at the Circle, but not exactly what."

Lhiannon chuckled. "'A spot' is putting it lightly." She sighed, putting her armor aside once again and leaning back on her hands, stretching her legs out in front of her. "I helped a friend destroy his phylactery after we found out he was to be made Tranquil."

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"My friend was having an affair with a Chantry initiate. She found evidence that suspected my friend of dabbling in blood magic. They were going to force him to undergo the Rite of Tranquility." She scoffed disdainfully. "The templars used that threat often to try and keep mages in line."

Lhiannon paused for a moment, her eyes looking far away as she gazed into the fire. Loghain waited patiently for her to continue. Finally, his curiosity got the best of him and he prompted her with a quiet question. "And?"

"Do you know what happens to a mage when they undergo the Rite of Tranquility?" Lhiannon asked, bitterness in her voice.

Loghain nodded. "I have a vague understanding of it."

Lhiannon sighed deeply, shaking her head slightly. "Mages who are either dangerous in the eyes of the Chantry or Circle, or are suspected of not having sufficient will to survive the Harrowing are _forced_ to undergo the Rite. It severs the mage's connection to the Fade. In severing that connection, all emotions are destroyed. They feel _nothing_ after that; not love, nor hate, nor passion. They don't laugh. They don't cry. It destroys the essence of the mage and leaves an empty shell behind. It's the cruelest of fates for mages, though the Chantry will say it's a kindness."

"And the Grey Wardens?" Loghain asked.

"After my friend destroyed his phylactery, we were confronted by the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander. My friend used blood magic to try and escape with his lover. He escaped after his lover rejected him for using it. The initiate was taken to the mages prison at Aeonar. The Knight-Commander wanted me to go to Aeonar as well, but Duncan asked to have me become a Grey Warden instead. He was impressed at the lengths I went to in helping my friend."

"What happened to the mage?" Loghain asked.

Lhiannon shrugged. "I imagine he's still languishing in the dungeon at Redcliffe Castle awaiting execution."

Loghain's brow furrowed, the gesture one of questioning. "Redcliffe?"

"His name is Jowan. He was the mage brought in by the arlessa to tutor Connor." Lhiannon looked at Loghain, her brow raised. "The mage who poisoned the arl."

Loghain nodded his head in understanding. "Ah," was all he said.

They sat in silence for several minutes, both working on their separate projects when Loghain scoffed, raising his eyes to Lhiannon and breaking the silence. "So, was Maric's bastard the only Grey Warden in Ferelden who wasn't conscripted because they had run into trouble?"

Lhiannon shrugged, a wry grin on her face. "Looks that way, doesn't it?"

She turned to the boiling water on the fire, spooning a small amount into a mug and adding some of Wynne's herbs into it, crushing and blending the mixture. Loghain noticed that she was putting more herbs than usual into the mug and less water. When she was finished, she went into her pack and brought out the flagon of wine and filled the remainder of the cup with it. She put the flagon aside and took a drink of the liquid, grimacing as she swallowed.

"Expecting trouble?" he asked.

"Possibly." Lhiannon snorted. "In truth, probably."

"Shall I take first watch?"

"If you would."

He nodded his agreement. Lhiannon finished off her wine and moved to her bedroll. It was fully dark and she hoped she could get some sleep before Loghain woke her for second watch. She lay on her back, watching the stars circle overhead. Her eyes eventually became heavy with wine and exhaustion. Sleep finally took her.

* * *

Lhiannon was not having a restful sleep. Loghain watched her as she occasionally jerked and moaned in her sleep. The herbs did not seem to help her much this night. He had never tried using the herbs before, but if she was having a difficult time with the dreams, he likely would as well. He may as well use the herbs and try to get some half decent sleep this night; he had a feeling that when they arrived at Ostagar tomorrow, it would be a difficult day.

Loghain truly did want to make peace with Ostagar. He knew Lhiannon was not happy with his request to come here but he respected her decision to accompany him. It spoke a lot about her character. He could only imagine how it made her feel, looking back on both of their roles at Ostagar. He really did believe that turning his army back was the right thing to do at the time. Cailan should have _listened_ to him; if he had, this whole situation could have been avoided. _Damn you Cailan_ , Loghain thought for the thousandth time, _why did you have to be so foolish?_

He added more wood onto the fire. The night had grown chilly and sleeping on the cold ground was not the most comfortable way to spend the night. Loghain stood up and stretched, walking for a bit around their small campsite to loosen his tight, aching muscles. The horses nickered at him softly as he passed by and he absentmindedly stroked their muscular necks. Lhiannon's uneasiness had seeped into him and he felt his nerves on edge.

A small shriek came from the direction of their camp and Loghain whirled about, pulling his blade and searching for the source of the sound. It took him only a second to realize that it was Lhiannon, who had wakened from a deep sleep and was frantically trying to crawl her way out of her bedroll and very nearly rolled herself into the fire. Loghain sheathed his sword and hurried over to her, bending down next to her and gently pulling her away from the fire.

"Careful there," he said quietly. "We don't have enough poultices to treat you if you roll into the fire."

Loghain helped Lhiannon sit up, his hand lingering on her back until he was sure she was settled. She was shaking all over. She rubbed her face with her hands and grimaced. Her dream was a strange one tonight. She dreamed of her father, something she had not done in years. She did not have the most pleasant memories of the man; in her dream, he morphed from human to darkspawn and was chasing her through the trees. She would strike him with spells but he would just keep coming. At the end, he had finally caught her, wrapping his corrupted hands around her throat and squeezing.

"These bloody dreams are getting worse by the day," she grimaced, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. "I swear Loghain, I'd like just _one night_ without darkspawn parading themselves through my head."

"An occupational hazard of being a Grey Warden."

Lhiannon sighed and looked up at the sky. The stars had moved somewhat, so she had at least slept for a couple of hours. She knew that she would not be able to get back to sleep this night. More sleep would have been better but she would take what she got. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips, grimacing at the tenderness there. "I'm not going to be able to sleep, Loghain. You're welcome to try; I'll stay on watch."

"If you had difficulty with dreams tonight, I don't see where I will fare any better," he complained.

"You need to rest. I can mix up some of the herbs for you, if you'd like," she offered. This time, Loghain accepted with a reluctant nod. She placed the kettle on the fire and a few minutes later the water was steaming. She placed the herbs in a mug and added the water to it. "Wine?" she asked, but he declined. After she finished mixing everything, she handed the mug to Loghain. He brought the mug to his nose and smelled the contents, grimacing.

"I fear the smell will be better than the taste," he smirked. Lhiannon smirked back at him. "You would be right," she agreed.

* * *

It was Lhiannon's turn to watch Loghain sleep. At times, he seemed peaceful but she could tell when his dream turned darker as his limbs would twitch and a scowl would cross his face. Lhiannon found herself studying his face as he slept; she was curious about him and that was the only time she could do it without him catching her. When he was not scowling, she found him to be a ruggedly handsome man, his face younger than his years. He had several small scars on his face, pale against the surrounding skin. His hair looked thick and held no trace of gray like many other men near his age. She had only seen him out of his full suit of armor a handful of times, but he was broad of chest and shoulder with a narrow waist and long, muscular legs. Very fit, considering his age. Of course, wearing that heavy plate armor for so long was bound to keep one strong and fit.

She pondered their partnership as he sighed and turned his head to the side. Since the resolution of their bitter argument nearly ten days ago, she found him to be a fairly reasonable man. He _was_ taciturn, there was no question about it and was still quite so with the other companions. However, the two of them came to an unspoken understanding that as Grey Wardens, they were both fighting for the same cause. She was beginning to see that he was not the monstrous figure he had been characterized as.

Lhiannon paused for a moment in her thoughts. As she gazed at Loghain's sleeping form, she suddenly realized that over the last few days, his taciturn nature toward her had been changing; where he was cold before, he was treating her with respect and courtesy. Yes, perhaps they were coming to an understanding after all. Ostagar, however, would likely put that understanding to the test.

* * *

They had arrived at Ostagar before midday. Lhiannon could feel the pit in her stomach growing all morning, getting larger as they drew closer to Ostagar. The day had clouded over and a light rain began to fall. Perfect, considering the circumstances of their visit. They had passed a number of decaying darkspawn corpses on the way in, reminders to Lhiannon of her last trip here. She vowed to herself that this would be the last time she came to Ostagar for quite a while. There were too many memories here, few of them good.

She could also sense Loghain's uneasiness as they drew closer to Ostagar. Like her, he had not slept well the night before, however he was able to get a couple more hours of sleep than she did. She was glad at least one of them slept somewhat. He was brooding even more than usual this morning, his thoughts unknown to her and his face unreadable. She had been leading the way in to Ostagar; they were approaching the bridge connecting the remains of the King's camp to the Tower of Ishal when Loghain called out to her.

"Lhiannon, stop," he called out. She turned her horse around to find him gazing at the bridge and the camp across the way. He dismounted from the horse and tied the reins around the remnants of a post sticking out of the ground. She walked her horse back next to his and slid off, securing the reins to the post as well. He continued to stare at the bridge, a shadow crossing his face.

"Where did you find him?" he finally asked.

"Just ahead, on the bridge," she said quietly, pointing out the crude cross the darkspawn had erected in the center. "On that cross."

Loghain began to walk toward the bridge, slowly at first but them with greater purpose. Lhiannon followed him as he walked. When he neared the center, he held his hand up. "Wait there," he barked sharply. She could feel the taint roiling within him now, alternating between anger and grief. She stopped and sat down on a piece of rubble overlooking the valley below, leaving Loghain to his own thoughts. She could hear his footsteps stop as he reached the cross; she turned to see him staring up at it. The light rain was still falling steadily and Lhiannon drew her cloak more tightly around her, trying to keep dry. It was a futile effort, as the rain seemed to find every gap in her armor, soaking the clothing beneath and chilling her to the bone. She turned her head away from Loghain and stared at the valley floor, trying to keep the memories from taking over. She concentrated on counting the remaining trees in the valley to keep her mind busy.

She heard Loghain say something, but could not make out what it was. She turned her head toward him. He was still looking up at the cross. The hood from his cloak had fallen off his head and the breeze made it billow around him. His leathers were soaking wet but he did not seem to notice.

"Loghain. Did you say something?" Lhiannon asked him.

"I helped raise him after Rowan died," he said quietly. Lhiannon stood and tentatively began walking toward Loghain. If he wanted her to leave, he did not say so.

"You did?" she asked hesitantly.

"He was like a son to me. I cared for him when Maric went with the Grey Wardens into the Deep Roads. If Maric died there, I was to be Cailan's regent." He paused, still looking up at the cross. The rain fell into his face, the drops running down his cheeks and dripping off his hair and chin. He scoffed, shaking his head.

"Maric and I betrothed Cailan and Anora when they were children. It was what we both wanted, a way of honoring our friendship. It had been strained for a while, but we had found each other again."

Loghain continued to stare at the cross, letting the rain fall into his face. After several more minutes staring upward, he turned to Lhiannon. She noticed that his eyes were shiny; he could have been weeping but with the rain falling into his face, she could not be certain.

"Where was the pyre?" he asked.

Lhiannon motioned to a scorched and blackened area of the bridge not far from the makeshift cross. "There," she pointed out.

Loghain walked over to the blackened area, his back to Lhiannon and staring down at it for a long time. She watched at his body began to tremble slightly, his hands clenching into fists and then opening again. Over and over he opened and closed his fists. The taint was roiling even more fiercely than before, the grief beginning to give way to anger. Loghain suddenly snarled and spat onto the remains of the pyre.

"Damn you Cailan," Lhiannon heard him growl. "Damn you for betraying Ferelden. For betraying Anora. For betraying all of us. I loved you as a son, but I cannot forgive you."

Lhiannon could feel the Loghain's hatred coming off him in waves. It nearly overwhelmed her with its force. It was the type of hate that was born out of love betrayed. How he was going to find his peace here, she did not know. After a few moments, Loghain sighed heavily and turning from the pyre, looked at Lhiannon.

"I'm finished here," he said quietly, walking away from the pyre and past her back toward the horses. She turned away from the pyre and began to follow Loghain off the bridge. When she reached post, Loghain handed her the reins to her horse and paused. He looked down at the ground. "You should have left him for the wolves," he said growled quietly. They were just about to mount their horses when Lhiannon was knocked forward by a blow to her back followed by burning pain.

"Andraste's blood! What the…"

She grimaced and began to turn to see what had happened when Loghain grabbed her by the arm and pushed her to the ground behind some rubble. The taint had flared to life around them.

"Get down!" he shouted at her. She looked up to see a band of darkspawn in front of them and could hear others behind them. They were surrounded. Loghain rushed forward to confront the creatures in front of him, bellowing a war cry that stunned the creatures. Lhiannon unsteadily got to her feet to face the darkspawn behind them and saw several of them rushing forward. She began to chant a spell of ice, freezing the creatures in place. As they froze, she immediately changed her spell and large stones began to fly from her outstretched hand. Several of the creatures shattered into pieces, dripping ichor as they thawed.

She heard Loghain curse and saw that he had several arrows sticking out of his leather armor. He had dispatched most of the creatures around him and the remainder had broken ranks and began to flee. He sheathed his sword and pulled the longbow from his back. With a motion nearly too fast for Lhiannon to see, he shot an arrow into the neck of a fleeing hurlock. He quickly shot another arrow at the last fleeing darkspawn, the arrow lodging itself into the creature's back. It fell forward, writhing on the ground until Loghain calmly approached it and ran his sword through it. Lhiannon heard movement from behind her again and prepared another spell but saw that the remaining darkspawn were fleeing back into the ruins.

"Get to the horses," Loghain barked at her, turning back and moving quickly toward her.

"You need not to tell me twice."

They quickly mounted the spooked horses and rode hard out of Ostagar, leaving its ghosts and darkspawn behind. They pushed the horses as fast as they could, wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and the ruins before they stopped to rest and tend to their injuries.

* * *

The rain had finally ended when they made camp. They had traveled until the taint had fallen quiet, hoping that they had seen the last of the darkspawn for a while. Lhiannon's back burned and she was feeling nauseous and light headed. The bolt was still lodged in the skin on her right side just below her breast band; she could not see it clearly and did not want to pull it out and cause more harm. Every thud of the horse's hooves sent shocks of pain through her body. Her healing magic had not done much to quell the scorching pain.

Loghain had tied their horses to nearby trees and pulled the arrows out of his armor. He pulled a rag from his pack and began to tie it around a profusely bleeding wound in his upper arm, holding one end of the rag in his teeth as he tightened. Lhiannon was still astride her horse, waiting for the latest round of nausea to subside. When it quelled a bit, she eased herself out of the saddle and suddenly found herself in a heap on the ground, grimacing in pain.

"Are you all right?" Loghain asked through gritted teeth. He secured the rag with a second knot as he hurried around to where Lhiannon was laying on the ground. He could see the bolt sticking out of her back.

"No. Something isn't right with the sodding bolt in my back."

Lhiannon took his offered hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She swayed and her vision began to go gray along the edges. Loghain wrapped his arm around her waist and half led, half carried her away from the horses to the shelter of several toppled trees.

"We need to get this bolt out of you. Lie down," he ordered. Lhiannon, in no condition to argue, complied gratefully. Loghain pulled some of the damaged metal links apart to widen the hole in her armor. He then pressed his left hand down on her back hard and pulled the bolt out with a swift jerk, blood quickly pooling into the empty space. Lhiannon shouted in pain and jerked beneath him. "Maker's breath that sodding hurt!" she complained through gritted teeth.

Loghain examined the bolt and saw a sticky green substance coated on the end of it. He brought it up to his nose and smelled it. "This bolt was coated with something. I need to see your wound to make sure it isn't festering."

She slowly sat back on her knees, fussing with the straps on her armor to remove it. She was having a hard time pulling it over her head as her back burned like fire; Loghain helped her ease the armor over her head. She stopped and regarded him warily.

"The shirt has to come off too. I can't see the wound under it," Loghain told bluntly. Her eyes went wide and she looked at him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He chuckled. "You would not be the first woman I've seen without a shirt."

"No, I suppose not." Lhiannon sighed. She loosened the ties on her shirt and pulled it off with her working hand. She laid the shirt on the ground in front of her and settled herself on it, her nearly naked back exposed to Loghain. The only thing covering her was the strip of cloth holding her breasts in place. She flushed red, feeling it travel down her face and neck. Loghain gently probed the wound with a clean cloth from their pack.

"Yes, there was some sort of coating on the end of the bolt. An acid or a mild poison."

"Well, that would explain why my magic wasn't working very well with it."

"The good news is that it doesn't look like it's festering. It should heal cleanly."

Loghain pulled some fresh water from a pack and gently cleaned her wound. At first the wound burned like fire and Lhiannon hissed in pain, but as Loghain continued, the burning began to subside and became a deep, throbbing ache as he cleaned the substance away. His hands were rough but gentle on her skin. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the thought of his hands and quickly fought to control it.

"You're quite the healer," she remarked as the pain continued to subside.

"Unfortunately, I've had a great deal of practice over the years."

Loghain pulled stitches gently through her skin with an experienced hand. When he finished, he covered the wound with clean cloth and helped her sit up so he could bind the bandages in place. As he bound the cloth around her, he tried not to let his eyes linger too long on her bare skin. It was difficult; she _was_ attractive and he was, after all, a man. At one point his hand unintentionally brushed the bottom of her breasts as he wrapped the cloth around her; she flinched. It felt like sparks jolted her skin.

"My apologies," he muttered. _Idiot_ , he admonished himself.

"Accepted," she gasped, her breath caught in her throat.

When Loghain was finished, Lhiannon donned her battered shirt and turned her attention to the wound on his arm. He had removed his upper armor and shirt so she could work on the injury. She gingerly cleaned the wound and began to examine it closely. "I don't see where anything broke off or the arrow was coated in something. It's rather deep though."

"It's making several of my fingers numb," he said, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Hold still while I cast." Lhiannon gently held his arm and chanted a healing spell, running her fingers lightly over the wound. The spell made the wound smaller but not completely healed. Loghain could sense the numbness subsiding in the last two fingers of his hand and he began to flex them experimentally.

"Feeling better?" she asked, holding the spell a little longer.

He nodded, alternately flexing his hand and massaging it. "Much."

Lhiannon could feel the taut muscles moving under the skin as he flexed his hand, strong from years of combat. His shoulders and chest were broad; the center of his chest was sparsely covered with dark hair. She put stitches in his arm and found herself admiring his form. _Nice_ , she thought, quickly quashing it as she felt her cheeks begin to flush.

Loghain could feel her eyes on him and while it irritated him somewhat, there was a small part of him that foolishly enjoyed the wandering eyes of a younger woman. It made him feel young again. He could feel heat beginning to spread within him, clearly a recipe for disaster. _Maker's breath man, attend to reality!_ Thankfully, Lhiannon finished the stitches and gently applied a salve to the wound and bandaged it. He nodded his thanks, grabbing his bow. He needed to hunt, but he also needed space to quell the rising heat within him.

As Loghain went off to hunt, Lhiannon once again gathered wood for the fire. She also gathered some longer pieces to have nearby so they could hang their wet clothes to dry. She felt melancholy, and not just because of the poor weather all day. Ostagar had left her drained emotionally again and the wound on her back ached terribly. Loghain had said almost nothing after they treated their wounds, lost in his own brooding thoughts. It was certainly going to be a quiet night in camp now that their wounds had been tended to.

Lhiannon's armor rested on a rag beside her; she would need to carefully dry and oil it tonight so it would not rust. Looking around to make sure she was alone and using her cloak as a cover, she quickly removed the remainder of her wet clothing and dressed in a spare set of dry clothes. She did not know why she bothered to use the cloak as a cover; Loghain had very nearly seen her naked from the waist up just a short time ago. Her breast band certainly left little to the imagination. She immediately felt better though; the wet clothing had given her a chill all day, which did not go along well with the burning she had in her back. She hung the wet clothing on sticks near the fire to dry and settled close to the coals to warm herself.

Loghain returned a short while later with some skinned and cleaned rabbits, which he threaded onto sticks to cook over the fire. When that was finished, he removed the remainder of his wet leather armor, laying it out on the ground around him to dry. He reached into his pack to pull out some dry clothes; Lhiannon noticed this and politely turned her back to the fire to offer him a small amount of privacy. She reached up and began to braid her damp hair; she did not want it falling into her face while she worked on her armor. Loghain glanced her way while he was dressing and was captivated by her deft fingers as they worked their way down her scalp. As her hands moved down toward the ends of her hair, he found himself admiring the curve of her neck. She turned her head slightly to bring the last of the long strands toward her shoulder to finish braiding and securing them. His eyes moved along the curve of her jaw where it met near her ear; two small golden hoops circled the skin of her lobe. They made a slight musical note as they brushed each other.

As he watched, something stirred inside him, something Loghain had not felt in a long time. Watching her perform such a personal act had awakened such longing, yearning feelings. Desire. Need. How soft was her skin? Her hair? He felt his body beginning to stir. He suddenly snapped himself out of his trance, cursing himself angrily and sitting down, willing his traitorous body to stop. _You are an idiot and a fool_ , he scolded himself.

Lhiannon heard him sit and turned back around to the fire, picking up her armor. She began to dry and oil it. He sat motionless, staring into the fire and willing his body to calm while the rabbits cooked. After some time, his eyes shifted again to Lhiannon.

"Thank you for coming to Ostagar again," he said quietly.

Lhiannon looked at him, a small smile playing across her face. "You're welcome. I hope you found some peace."

He sighed. "Time will tell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: A long chapter! I considered breaking it in two but changed my mind. Another note: I wanted my Warden a few years older than what she would have been in DA:O. Just because._
> 
> _Thanks again to everyone who is following along! I appreciate the comments and support!_


	9. Crumbling to Dust

Early the next morning, Lhiannon directed an ice spell at the fire pit while Loghain secured their packs to the horses. They were going to rejoin their other companions at Flemeth's hut before continuing their journey toward Redcliffe. It only took a short while to break down their meager camp and set off.

"How does your arm fare today?" Lhiannon asked as they began their trip.

Loghain rotated his arm from the shoulder and flexed it experimentally. "It's a bit stiff, but should be fine later. And your back?"

"Sore, but far better than yesterday. You are an excellent healer."

Loghain scoffed at her and returned his gaze to the road ahead, silence once again settling over their journey.

"Do you think, perhaps, I should invest in some heavier armor?" she asked.

Loghain turned to look at her quizzically. "I thought mages shied away from heavy armor."

Lhiannon shrugged at him. "Well, I'm a bit different from other mages."

At that, Loghain snorted at her. "I've known that since our duel at the Landsmeet. What makes _you_ so different?"

"Have you ever heard of an arcane warrior?"

Loghain furrowed his brow in thought, then shook his head. "Not that I recall."

"It's an old elven ability. We were in the ruins of a temple on the Brecilian Forest where I found an ancient phylactery in a ruined library. When I picked it up, there was an entity trapped inside it."

Loghain's grimaced, his face wrinkled in distaste. "A trapped entity? For how long?"

Lhiannon shook her head and shrugged. "I'm unsure. Centuries, most like. It begged me to release it and in return, would teach me the skill of an arcane warrior. I would be able to cast, but use heavier weapons and armor. Hence, I freed it."

"So that is how you were able to wield a blade and cast spells in our duel," Loghain mused, the answers to his questions falling into place. "I had wondered how you managed to pull that off." He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "You were _not_ a nice, predictable opponent."

Lhiannon chuckled at him. "I wasn't trying to be _nice_ at all."

"Nor I."

They rode in silence for a while. The sun had come out and Lhiannon found herself turning her face toward it, letting its rays warm her skin. Winters could be brutal in Ferelden and she enjoyed soaking up the sun whenever she could.

"You know," Lhiannon began, breaking the silence, "before my Joining and Ostagar, I couldn't have cared less about Ferelden politics. What you teyrns and arls and banns were up to was no concern of mine. It was Alistair who suggested throwing our lot in with Eamon after Ostagar."

Loghain scoffed at her. "Even when I was a teyrn, I couldn't have cared less about politics. Unfortunately, I was up to my neck in it whether I liked it or not."

"We had the Grey Warden treaties in hand, the treaties that promised the aid of humans, dwarves, and elves in the event of a Blight." Lhiannon paused, shaking her head and gritting her teeth. "What frustrated me was that before _anyone_ would fulfill their obligations to the Grey Wardens, they wanted us to do favors for them. Clean up their messes. I was glad to have helped, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't disconcerted about it."

Loghain turned to look at her, a smirk on his face. "I never expected you to gather the armies as fast as you did. I thought the fight over the ascension of the dwarven king alone would put you back weeks. In that time, I had hoped to secure the border and begin to push the darkspawn south." He scoffed at her. "You were very determined and quite troublesome."

"We had the same goal, Loghain: stop the Blight. It was maddening to see Fereldens fighting each other. We wasted so much time and effort on that when we should have been fighting the darkspawn all along."

Loghain frowned at her. "The Orlesians…"

"Oh _fuck_ the Orlesians, Loghain!" she spat, watching his eyes go momentarily wide. "I hated them too, especially after the tales I heard of what Remille and his cronies did at Kinloch Hold; beating and killing Ferelden mages, some of them little more than _children_. If Ferelden had been united in the first place and everyone fulfilling their obligations to the Wardens, we could have secured the border _and_ ran the darkspawn back into the ground."

After a moment in which the silence hung thick around them, Loghain began to chuckle. "Had I known you felt that way at Ostagar, I would have asked you to throw in your lot with me. It would have saved us all a lot of trouble. Perhaps we both could have talked Cailan off the front lines and avoided this whole mess; you are quite persuasive."

"You would have been throwing in _your_ lot with _me_ ," she joked.

"You think so?" he bantered back at her. They both shared a laugh and Lhiannon felt herself warming to him. No, he was not the monster she thought he was. Once again silence fell upon them as they traveled. Lhiannon's mind began to wander, brushing over any number of subjects, her face turned toward the sun to warm it.

"Perhaps you should consider heavier armor."

Loghain's sudden comment startled Lhiannon out of her sun bathing and she turned to see him regarding her with a raised brow. "And you should consider looking ahead when you are on your horse and not staring directly into the sun."

"I have thought about it. My magical abilities will augment my strength until I am used to the heavier armor. Perhaps when we get to Redcliffe, I'll inquire with the blacksmith there. I also should work with a sword rather than a dagger."

Loghain turned his head to hide his grimace. He would probably regret this offer. "If you are indeed serious about using a sword, I would be willing to train you."

"You would?" she asked, surprised.

"Did I not say I would?" he replied, his voice irritable. "I do not care to repeat myself."

Lhiannon nodded. "I would welcome any training you would give."

Loghain curtly nodded and returned his attention to the road ahead of them, spurring his horse forward to ride ahead of Lhiannon. The truth was he had thought about training her with a blade since the battle with Flemeth. She had used blood magic and in the process nearly made an enemy out of Wynne. Though he still did not entirely trust magic, he could not fault Lhiannon for using blood magic; it had likely saved their lives. _He_ was not about to tell the templars; it was possible however that Wynne could inform the Chantry or templars the next time they came close to a major settlement. At that point Lhiannon could possibly have an army of templars tracking her, Grey Warden or not. The Chantry was prickly about such things, after all.

Since Redcliffe was only a few days away, the Chantry could find out as soon as then. If the templars succeeded in eliminating Lhiannon, Loghain doubted the armies of Ferelden would follow him against the darkspawn, considering recent events. They would probably follow Alistair, but as Calenhad's heir, many of the nobles would demand he remain out of the fighting. If Lhiannon knew swordcraft, not only would she be able to handle herself against the templars, it could also come in handy in their quest to defeat the Blight. Loghain grinned to himself; wouldn't the templars be surprised to see a mage not only wielding a sword, but wielding it proficiently. The irony of it nearly made Loghain laugh out loud.

The clacking of the horses' hooves and the rustling of the wind in the trees had been the only sound around them for some time. Loghain was riding just ahead of Lhiannon, head shifting slightly from side to side watching for anything that might come into their path.

"Loghain…" Lhiannon began cautiously, gently nudging her horse forward to walk beside his.

"Did you want something?" Loghain asked, scanning the path ahead.

"What _would_ you have done, had you won the civil war?"

Loghain shrugged, giving her a sideways glance. "That would have depended on how much of Ferelden was left after the fact. The border with Orlais would have been secured first. Once that was complete, we would have regrouped and pushed the darkspawn back to the Wilds."

"But how could you afford to divide our forces? Fighting a war on two fronts is difficult, at best."

"We couldn't," Loghain said simply. "Especially after Ostagar." He sighed heavily before he continued. "It seemed necessary at the time. Perhaps I was wrong. The Blight would have raged unchecked until the border was secure. Lothering would have been just one town out of many."

They grew quiet again as they rode and in the distance they could see smoke rising in a narrow ribbon. They were nearing Flemeth's hut and the rest of their companions.

"And King Maric? The tales have the two of you as inseparable."

Loghain looked down at the reins he held in his hands, contemplating her question. "He was my friend," he said slowly, his voice quiet. "If he had wanted to conquer the Fade itself, I would have gladly led the charge." Time supposedly healed all wounds, but the scar covering the wound of Maric's death was easily torn away even now. He took his hand and gently pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his grief down. It always seemed to come roaring back at the most inopportune time.

"He was a great king, but what made him so?"

Loghain gave a small, sad smile. "He could inspire such devotion that men would gladly lay down their lives for him. I was one of them. My father was one of them. Maric had knighted him just before he died. My father was so _proud_." Loghain paused again and swallowed thickly. "Maric was a remarkable man."

"He certainly was," Lhiannon agreed. "Ferelden will never be the same." They rounded a bend in the road as she spoke and the roof of the hut came into view. "Well, here we are." Lhiannon sighed. "We should probably head in."

"Go on ahead," Loghain said, "I'll follow along shortly."

Lhiannon nodded. She turned and walked her horse toward the hut, calling out a greeting as she approached it. Loghain watched her go, wondering what she had done to him to make him be so open with her. He rarely opened up to anyone and yet, he found it so very easy to do with her; too easy, in fact. He cursed himself a fool.

* * *

Loghain sat at the fire not long after he and Lhiannon had returned, occasionally watching as Leliana and Lhiannon played a lawn game. They were rolling several small colored balls toward a single white one, gaining points with the closest ball. Zevran was alternately cheering and bantering with them as they played. There was an easy camaraderie between the three, a close friendship formed from the shared horrors of the Blight.

Loghain was cleaning and polishing his silverite armor, letting his mind wander as he did so. He occasionally looked up as he heard laughter from the game. As he did so, he found himself looking at Lhiannon more and more. There were things about her that unnerved him, yet excited him at the same time. In some ways, she reminded him of Rowan. Lhiannon had boldly put herself between Flemeth and her companions to protect them; that greatly impressed Loghain. Mages were not known to put themselves directly in danger, instead preferring to stay off to the sides. Rowan also would throw herself into danger to protect others; like the time she came to reinforce a hopelessly outnumbered Loghain and his men on a dead end bluff.

Rowan was a subject that was always at the back of Loghain's mind, tickling his consciousness on a regular basis of late. He and Rowan had been two halves of the same soul. He had loved her, despite knowing she had been Maric's betrothed since her birth. When the time came that Maric needed her, it was Loghain who urged Rowan to go to him and be the Queen she was meant to be. His heart had broken, certain he would love no other like her. He had avoided Denerim for all those years because he could not bear the thought of seeing her with Maric as _Maric's_ wife. She should have been _his_.

Then Rowan died. Not long after her death, rumors began to arrive in Gwaren that King Maric would soon join her, so great was his grief. Loghain had begun to fear the worst when Sister Ailis had sent word to Gwaren, begging him to come to Denerim with all haste. Loghain was not deaf to Sister Ailis' pleas, leaving for Denerim the very day her message arrived. Together, he and Maric had mourned Rowan. After that, he spent more and more time with Maric in Denerim.

Loghain had been fond of his wife in Gwaren; how could he not be? She was the perfect teyrn's wife, skilled in the matters surrounding a noble house. She made everyone feel important, whereas Loghain made them ill at ease. When he was away from Gwaren she had managed the teyrnir well, most likely better than he could have. After all, he had been a farmer and a soldier; when Maric made him teyrn, he knew nothing of running a noble house. She had also given him Anora, whom he prized over all else. Though his wife was everything he could have asked for, he had not loved her—truth be told. Cared for and fond of, yes; but love? When she died, he could not mourn her like Rowan and that made him feel guilty. She had deserved more but he had been unable to give it.

After his wife died, it seemed the pyre was barely cold when every nobleman in Ferelden was trying to force his daughter on him. Even worse were the widows of the noblemen; throwing themselves at him to better their positions within the nobility. Loghain rejected them all, appalled by their shallowness and lack of decorum. If that was how women brought up in noble houses were, he wanted no part of them. He had come to the conclusion that he would be alone for the rest of his life and he had accepted it long ago. Even Maric had stopped badgering him about taking a wife again.

Loghain brought himself back to the moment, noticing that he had polished the same spot on his breastplate for several minutes. _Idiot,_ he admonished himself, moving to a different spot on the metal. _I should hate her for besting me at the Landsmeet, humiliating me in front of those bloody nobles—and Anora. I should hate her for making me go through the Joining instead of giving me an honorable death. But I cannot; Maker help me, it's like meeting Maric all over again and falling for his charms. _

_ It's almost like Rowan again, and I think that's worse. _

* * *

The party departed Flemeth's the hut the next morning and began traveling toward Redcliffe and the eventual battle with the horde. They had traveled for part of the day on horseback when Lhiannon decided that she would rather walk on her own two feet for awhile. Her backside was aching from all the time spent on the horses recently. She wanted to work the kinks out of her stiff legs and a good walk through the countryside sounded ideal to her. She was walking at the front of the group when movement from her right side caught her eye. She turned to find Loghain walking in step beside her, leading his own horse behind him.

"You're a brave man to leave Wynne at your back," she commented nonchalantly.

"And why is that?"

Lhiannon turned and looked up at Loghain with a humorous glint in her eye. "You know she would love to hide a dagger in your back."

"I have every confidence that you shall watch my back then," Loghain said, his face unreadable.

"Watching your back?" Lhiannon asked, a smirk beginning to spread across her face. "I could think of worse things I may well be doing."

"Indeed? Such as?"

Lhiannon shrugged her shoulders. "I could be healing you after I pulled the dagger out of your back."

Loghain kept his face straight. "Your healing skills would without doubt be worse than the dagger."

"Hey now," she complained, the humor evident in her voice. "That hurt."

"Then I suggest a healing spell. Perhaps Morrigan can help you with that."

Lhiannon turned to him again and cocked her head. "Oh, so Morrigan's healing is so much better than mine?"

Loghain looked down at her from the corner of his eye, his eyebrow raised and a smirk playing across his face. Lhiannon snorted and playfully slapped his armored forearm with her hand. He chuckled and returned his gaze to the road ahead. They walked in companionable silence for several minutes, side by side as friends would. The thought made her giggle; who would ever have predicted that Lhiannon Amell and Loghain Mac Tir would become friendly after everything that had happened over the last few months? She never would have guessed it, yet here they were.

"Something amusing?" Loghain asked.

"I was thinking about all that has happened in recent months."

"Such as?"

"Well, would _you_ have guessed that we would both be Grey Wardens fighting on the same side?"

Loghain scoffed, turning to look at her with a raised brow. "Certainly not I. The archdemon would do well to fear us however."

"The strapping warrior and diminutive mage; bane of darkspawn and archdemons everywhere."

"You certainly know how to handle a dagger well enough," Loghain said. "When we make camp tonight, you shall have your first lesson fighting with a sword."

Lhiannon snickered like a schoolgirl; clearly Zevran was a bad influence on her. Loghain heard her snickering and scoffed in exasperation. "Maker help me. Must you act so childish?"

"I'm sorry," Lhiannon giggled, raising a hand to her face. "It just struck me funny."

"So glad I can amuse you," he drawled irritably. "Do you want training or not?"

"Of course I do," Lhiannon answered. "I shall endeavor to be more serious."

* * *

Lhiannon was standing outside their camp, wearing new elven armor and holding a cheap iron sword. Bodahn had met with another dwarven merchant while Lhiannon and Loghain were at Ostagar, trading supplies and bringing back a fine set of armor for Lhiannon. Bodahn explained that the armor was enchanted and had been crafted for mages. It had a greenish hue, intricate designs of vines and leaves etched into the arcane metal. She found that it was very fine indeed, unlike the sword she held. It was one she had found on their journey and would occasionally take practice swings with in camp. She swung at a sparring dummy that Bodahn had dug out of his cart for her to use. When the sword landed on the dummy, it shook in such a way that it sent an unpleasant pins and needles sensation through her hand and into her arm.

"Maker's breath, that is so sodding annoying," she grumbled, dropping the sword and shaking her hand to rid it of the pins and needles. As the feeling come back into her hand, she heard Loghain's approaching footsteps. His brow furrowed as he saw her shaking her hand. Lhiannon scoffed and indicated the sword on the ground. "That bloody thing sends the most annoying pins and needles sensation up my arm whenever I use it."

Loghain held his hand out to her. "May I see your blade?" Lhiannon picked up the sword and handed it to him, hilt first. He took it and stepped back, giving the blade a few practiced swings. He then held it out, peering down its length with an experienced eye. The weapon was cheaply made and heavy in his hand. The iron used to forge the sword was of poor quality.

"Your sword is terribly unbalanced. This is probably why it feels so awkward in your hand. It is also warped." He looked at Lhiannon questioningly. "Where did you get this sorry thing?"

Lhiannon shrugged. "It was in some old ruins; I don't remember where. We would sometimes pick up the weapons we found to sell or keep as spares."

"Hold here a moment. I will get you an appropriate sword to practice with." Loghain turned and walked back toward the camp, leaving Lhiannon to massage her hand. After a few minutes, she heard Loghain returning, a small sword in hand.

"This silverite sword is much more appropriate for you. It is lighter than this monstrosity, so you won't have to use so much force to swing it. It is also more evenly balanced." He handed it to her, hilt first. Lhiannon took the sword and gave it a small swing.

"It _is_ lighter," she exclaimed. "I can feel the difference. It seems to flow through the air much easier. Where did we have this sword at?"

"It's mine," Loghain said. "I always carry an extra sword."

Lhiannon moved to hand it back to him. "I wouldn't want to ruin your sword in practice. Maybe we should find a different one. I'm sure there's one in camp…"

"No," Loghain said, holding up his hand to stop her. "If you wish to learn how to wield a sword, you must work with a proper weapon. We do not have the luxury of time. You need to learn quickly and it will be done best with a quality weapon."

She nodded. "Let's begin then."

"You must learn first how to draw your sword quickly. If you can draw faster than your opponent, you will have an edge at the first strike."

Lhiannon sheathed the sword in its scabbard, leaving her hand on the hilt. Loghain nodded and she tried to pull the sword out as fast as she could, knocking it about in the scabbard before finally pulling it out. By this time, Loghain had produced his hunting dagger from his boot and held to her throat. Lhiannon looked down at it warily, then looked at Loghain.

"You see?" he began. "You didn't pull it fast enough and that gave me an advantage. First, focus on pulling the sword out slowly and smoothly to get a feel for it. Once you are comfortable with that, then start pulling it faster." She worked on that for a while before Loghain moved on to the next concept.

"When you are in battle, keep your sword close to your body when you parry attacks and keep your feet apart so you can move quickly. Your opponents will most likely be much larger than you. You need to be faster and learn to anticipate their moves." He pulled his own sword from its scabbard and brandished it in front of him, showing her a proper stance; Lhiannon mimicked it.

"Your sword needs to be an extension of you. Make it do your bidding. Feel how it moves with you when you use it." Loghain took a swing at her and Lhiannon held her sword well out in front of her to deflect the blow. Though Loghain did not swing at her hard, the sword fell from her hands onto the ground. Lhiannon scowled, bending down to pick it up.

"Don't hold your sword so far out in front of you. Keep it closer to your body when you parry." Loghain swung at her again and again the sword fell from her hands, landing on the ground. She picked it up to try again. This time she held the sword closer still and was able to deflect his blow. The sword shook in her hands, the shock traveling up her arms and leaving the pins and needles sensation in its wake. Loghain nodded his approval, swinging his sword again and again, Lhiannon's parries becoming more confident. Suddenly, something flickered in her eyes and when Loghain next swung his sword, Lhiannon not only parried it, but with a deft flick of her wrist knocked his sword from his hand and into the dirt. His eyes narrowed at her as if he could not believe she had just disarmed him so easily. She looked at the sword in her hands, an astonished look on her face as well.

"Impressive," Loghain finally admitted, reaching down to pick up his sword. "How did you think to do that?"

Lhiannon shook her head. "I don't know exactly. It's as if I _remembered_ how to do it."

"How much do you think you can 'remember'?" he asked her warily. This whole entity in a bottle business was a little outside his comfort zone, but if it helped in the battle against the Blight, he would learn to live with it.

"I'm not sure," she said, shaking her head. "Let's find out."

They both dropped into fighting stances and Loghain swung his sword at her, holding back. She easily parried his blow and returned with a swing of her own. Loghain parried her blow without difficulty, but was surprised at the strength behind it. _She must be channeling her magic_ , he thought.

They circled each other in a dance that could bring death to their enemies. Both were growing heated during the exchange and not all was from the physical exertion. Each had been watching the body of the other, trying to anticipate the next move while admiring the other's form. The air was heavy with their sweat and pheromones; both unconsciously found themselves responding. Their hearts pounded in their chests and the taint in their blood roared with their need. Lhiannon lunged at him swinging; Loghain parried her blow and counterattacked. Back and forth they went for several minutes, their breathing becoming more ragged as their _need_ grew. She lithely sidestepped one of his blows and brought her sword around to attack. The sword landed in a gap in Loghain's armor, cutting into his arm and he hissed in pain.

"Maker's breath, Loghain! Are you all right?" Lhiannon sheathed her sword and quickly moved to his side, trying to examine the deep cut on his arm.

"It's nothing," he grumbled, attempting to pull his arm away so he could examine the injury for himself. She had an iron grip on his arm however and quickly peeled off the piece of armor blocking the wound. The cut was deep, slicing across the inside of his elbow and pumping bright blood with every beat of his heart. Before he could pull back, she had drawn the hem of her shirt out from under her armor and wiped the blood away. She began whispering a healing spell, gently running a finger across the cut as it began to heal, her eyes going far away. Her finger began to move slower, stroking his skin tenderly and he could feel the heat beginning to surge within him. Gooseflesh appeared on his skin and he shuddered beneath her touch.

"Enough," he told her firmly, his voice husky. _Maker's breath woman!_ He moved to pull his arm away and she finally released his arm, stepping back. She blinked rapidly and her face immediately flushed.

"I think we've sparred enough for today," she said nervously. She quickly turned and returned to camp, crawling into her tent to try and calm her racing heart. She had not meant to cut Loghain's arm as they sparred; that was a lucky strike. She was also not prepared for how healing Loghain's arm caused the need within her to build into a nearly maddening crescendo. She remembered the blood pounding in her ears and how her touch brought gooseflesh along his arm. Running her finger over his skin had felt so _good…_

"Surely I'm mad to be thinking such thoughts," she sighed. "Too much lyrium."

Loghain also returned to his tent after the sparring session, resting on his bedroll. Lhiannon had progressed amazingly fast with the help of her emerging arcane warrior abilities. She probably would not master the little subtleties of swordsmanship, but he was certain that she would be more than capable with a sword.

They had very nearly worked themselves into a frenzy during the training session. The heat of battle gave way to heat of a different sort near the end. He had felt himself become aroused by her closeness, her movements, and Andraste's blood even her _smell_ …

"Idiot," he murmured to himself, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. He had only traveled with Lhiannon for a short time and while he was warming to her, they had been adversaries not long ago and it would be best to remember that. He found that it was becoming far too easy for him to drop his defenses with her, to let her see the _real_ Loghain buried under years of bitterness and isolation. The thought was disconcerting.

But, oh, how she made him feel _young_ again.

* * *

The companions continued northwest out of the Wilds toward Redcliffe. Neither Lhiannon nor Loghain had any sense of the archdemon's arrival just yet, but both felt time was growing short. Their dreams had become darker of late and any sort of sleep a luxury. Both Grey Wardens drank Wynne's tea laced with wine every night now in hopes of dreamless sleep, but they were of little benefit. Both Lhiannon and Loghain had dark circles under their eyes and were often short with the others. They hoped the battle would be over soon; neither one knew how much longer they would be able to endure the dreams.

The night before they arrived in Redcliffe, the dreams had been so violent they had woken Lhiannon out of a deep sleep and left her shaking and terrified. She felt as if the tent was closing in on her; she had to get out. Now. Trying to hold the looming terror at bay, she threw on a longshirt and trousers and nearly fell as she stumbled out of her tent in her haste to get outside. She caught herself before she fell and looked about her, wide-eyed and panicky, as if she did not quite know where she was. Loghain and Sten had been on watch and both turned to regard her as she appeared.

"Kadan?" Sten asked quietly. Lhiannon thought she heard concern in his voice. Loghain could sense her roiling emotions. She was like a panicked, cornered animal. Terror, despair, and exhaustion all fought for dominance within her.

Lhiannon was still wide-eyed and not quite herself just yet. She spotted a silver shield propped up against one of their packs and went to regard herself in it. She was shocked at her appearance. Her hair was wild and tangled about her face as if she were trying to pull it out. Dark circles ringed her reddened eyes and her skin was pale except for two bright red splotches of color at her cheekbones.

"Andraste's bleeding heart, I look like the ass end of a genlock," she said despairingly, running her fingers through her tangled hair to try and make something of it. She went and sat beside the fire, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her dream had left a lingering coldness within her; she sat so close to the fire she could feel her skin baking on one side while remaining stone cold on the other. Her eyes darted everywhere, as if looking for unseen predators to come rushing at them. Eventually, her features began to calm and her breathing became more relaxed. She looked at Loghain, who was pointedly looking into the fire, the trees, and anywhere but directly at her. Confused, she returned her gaze to the fire.

Sten eventually rose and began to walk the perimeter of the camp, scanning for any creatures that may be trying to come close. He thought that perhaps Lhiannon's nightmare was the result of darkspawn in the area and he wanted to make sure they stayed away. The Wardens needed as much rest as they could find and he was determined to give it to them if he could.

Loghain continued to pointedly stare into the fire. "Your dream; it was particularly bad?"

Lhiannon nodded slowly. "There were demons in it too. What they were doing was…unspeakable." She sighed and to Loghain it sounded profoundly sad. "I just don't know how much longer I can go on."

They were both silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts or in the glow of the fire. "I never told you how my magical abilities manifested," Lhiannon said, breaking the silence.

"No, you did not."

Lhiannon sighed, her chest hitching as if she were forcing back sobs. She ran her hand through her mussed hair, searching for the words to begin. "My parents were fanatical Andrastians. We lived in a small community, a cult. They wanted me to be a chanter and forced me to memorize passages from the Chant of Light every day. If I didn't memorize them correctly, I'd be punished. I didn't want to be a chanter, or a lay sister, or a priest for that matter. I wanted to live my own life away from the Chantry, so I didn't try too hard to memorize the Chant. Needless to say, I was punished a lot.

"We lived on a small farm and I was in the barn taking care of the animals one day when my father came in with his horse and demanded I recite the day's passages to him. I told him that I had been working in the barn all day and hadn't had time to memorize them. I was a teen and moody like they can be and my father was furious at my response. He had taken the reins off his horse and started beating me with them…" Her voice began to trail off and her eyes looked far away.

Loghain finally looked at her and held up a hand. "Lhiannon, stop. You don't have to continue."

Lhiannon shook her head. "No, it's all right." She took a couple of deep breaths before she began again. "My father whipped me until I collapsed onto the dirt floor. All I wanted him to do was stop and for the burning pain to stop. I remember thinking, "stop" and "cold", and the next thing I knew, the reins weren't hitting me anymore. I looked up and saw my father literally frozen to the ground. He was covered in frost. I screamed and that broke my concentration. He immediately thawed out. When he did, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me to the Chantry. Literally dragged me across the ground. He dropped me in front of a templar there, cursing me and disowning me. The templar was also a fanatic and tied my hands together in front of me as he took me to Kinloch Hold. He told me I was dangerous and that if I even thought of casting a spell on him, he would kill me and bury me out in the wilderness where no one would find me. No one would miss a stupid mage."

Loghain's eyes were back on the fire, contemplating what Lhiannon had just told him. She was forced to grow up too young, much like he had to after the Orlesians raped and murdered his mother and forced him and his father off their land. He was unsure what to say to her, so he told her the only thing he could. "I'm sorry, Lhiannon."

Lhiannon's dream still tugged at her consciousness. It was by far one of the most disturbing she had endured since becoming a Grey Warden. Cities and towns across Ferelden were in flames. Darkspawn were hauling screaming captives underground for Maker knew what purpose. The corruption spread across the Bannorn like a plague. Where the darkspawn had ravaged, the Veil had worn thin and allowed all manner of demons to cross. They began to overrun Ferelden and destroy what the darkspawn did not. She could still see the death and destruction in her mind's eye as if they had really happened. Or would happen.

"I'm scared, Loghain."

Loghain tore his eyes away from the fire and looked into Lhiannon's. They were brimmed with tears and as he watched one of them rolled down her cheek. The light from the fire caught it and it glimmered as it fell. She seemed so vulnerable right now. This was the woman that had defeated him in a duel? She had been so sure of herself at the Landsmeet; so firm in her convictions and belief that _she was right._ The confidence had rolled off her in almost palpable waves. She could have told the entire Landsmeet that fire was cold and everyone there would have believed her; he probably would have believed her. It was so unlike the woman before him now, confessing her fear and doubt.

Part of him wanted to go to her, but he was hesitant. If he failed to close himself off now, he was unsure he would be able to later. He would be a fool if he did not stop this madness now. It was becoming far too easy to open himself to her.

"I know," he said, his voice comforting. _Maker's breath, what are you doing_, he thought irritability to himself.

"You do?"

"I would be lying if I said I never felt fear before a battle." He paused, wondering yet again what she had done to him to get past the barriers he worked so hard to build and keep in place. He was definitely a fool.

"What if we can't stop the Blight? What if we can't save Ferelden?"

Loghain was feeling distinctly troubled. He was not the kind of person who others looked to for reassurance, quite the opposite in fact. Others felt uncomfortable around him and he preferred it that way. He rarely allowed anyone to get close to him. What troubled him was that he found himself _wanting_ to reassure her, to assuage her fears and tell her everything would be fine, even if he himself doubted it. He felt himself being drawn to her despite his mind screaming at him to stop, to put up the walls inside and not let her through. He found himself unable to stop however as he rose from his position by the fire and moved to Lhiannon's side, sitting down next to her. He stared into the fire, because staring at her would probably rend asunder all the barriers he tried so hard to keep in place.  The barriers that he was still trying to keep in place, though the effort was looking more and more futile by the second.

"We will do what we must and have faith that we can see our duty through to the end," he told her, staring intently into the fire and trying to ignore just how close to her he was. He could feel her body heat next to him; could almost feel the sparks jumping between them. Just a slight movement to the side and he would be touching her.

He was completely mad.

Lhiannon brushed her tears away with a shaky hand and wiped them on her longshirt, leaving a small wet spot on the fabric. Hesitantly, Loghain turned to look at her. _Maker's breath, but she is beautiful. _When he did, he found that his hand had rose to her face and brushed a small lock of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, the tips of his fingers brushing her skin as they passed. They lingered there and then followed the curve of her ear, making her golden earrings chime softly as they touched each other. His fingers continued their slow, gentle movement past her ear, tracing the outline of her jaw just below it.

"You are stronger than you think," he told her as his fingers stopped near her chin.

She offered him a small smile and he found himself returning it, his mind still screaming ineffectually at him to stop, but his body ignoring it. Even his own hand had betrayed him. He slowly pulled his hand away, resting it on his leg. She moved her hand to rest on top of his and he felt her fingers curl around it. He felt his hand squeeze in response.

"Thank you," she said softly.

After a moment, she pulled her hand away from his and rose to go back to her tent. He could feel his barriers crumbling to dust and knew trying to stop them would be all but impossible.

Off in the distance, Morrigan stood in her small campsite, watching Loghain and Lhiannon with great interest. So, the standoffish warrior had developed a soft spot for his fellow Grey Warden. _Interesting_ , she thought, running her fingers over her grimoire. This was something she was going to have to watch _very_ closely.


	10. Inevitable Fate

As they neared Redcliffe, the Grey Wardens and their companions spotted the sun's reflection gleaming brightly on the surface of Lake Calenhad. They would be at the town's border before too long now. But as they approached the edge of the town, both Lhiannon and Loghain suddenly stopped short and looked at each other. They could see their own anxiety reflected in the other's eyes.

"Something is definitely wrong here," Lhiannon said, dread settling into her stomach and tying it in knots. The taint in her blood began to seethe within her.

"Darkspawn," Loghain agreed as he pulled his sword from its scabbard and settled his shield on his arm.

Looking into the sky, they saw an ominous glow reflected in the clouds and smoke rolling over the lake, like fires were burning out of control in the town. They quickly gathered the rest of their companions and ran toward Redcliffe at top speed, weapons drawn. When they reached a high vantage point above the heart of the town, they could see fires burning everywhere; even the chantry was on fire. They could see where people had been hanged from the eaves of buildings and branches of trees. As they began to hurry down the main road into Redcliffe, they were greeted at the edge of town by darkspawn. They were everywhere. Some of the Arl's men were fighting the darkspawn in the streets, wave after wave of the creatures falling upon them at every turn.

"Great, ogres. Sodding wonderful." Oghren sighed, settling his heavy hammer in his hands.

"And don't forget the emissaries, my drunken friend," Zevran quipped. "It certainly isn't a Blight without them."

They fought their way through the village, finding darkspawn at every turn. Great masses of them seemed to be coming from everywhere. The Arl's men fought amongst them and Lhiannon cringed whenever one fell victim to the darkspawn. There would be a pause in battle and they would think the darkspawn were gone, but then another wave would come. Then another. After what seemed like hours of fighting, the number of darkspawn began to dwindle and eventually stopped. They searched the streets and alleys and found no more of the creatures, yet the taint still seethed within Lhiannon and Loghain. All of the companions were heavily wounded. Wynne was casting as many healing spells as she could and health flasks and poultices were passed around.

Lhiannon turned toward Loghain, her hair plastered to her head and armor smeared with blood and ichor. "Are you all right? Do you sense any other darkspawn? I think there are more here, but I want a second opinion."

Loghain was breathing heavily, his armor likewise covered in ichor. "I'm fine," he reassured her. He paused, closing his eyes and becoming still for a moment. "I agree," he said, opening his eyes again and looking around. "I feel there are more darkspawn in the area."

Lhiannon looked up at the castle on the hill above them, a look of grim determination on her face. "Then let's get to the castle and see if Arl Eamon and the others are all right."

When they arrived at the castle, there were indeed more darkspawn there. A number of the Arl's knights were engaged in battle with them at the castle steps, savagely fighting the creatures in a desperate attempt to keep them out of the castle. Several of the knights had already fallen victim to the darkspawn attack and the rest were very near to being overrun. Lhiannon and her companions ran into the courtyard to help the knights. It was not long before the remaining darkspawn were defeated, their ichor seeping into the ground. They were preparing to sheathe their weapons when a roar filled the air from the causeway. Another ogre was approaching at a run, murder in its eyes. It launched itself at Loghain, who happened to be standing closest to it, knocking him down and landing on top of him, beating him with its meaty fists. Loghain roared in anger and tried to kick the beast off him to no avail.

Zevran had quickly flanked the great beast, leaping onto the ogre's back and plunging his daggers to the hilt in its hide. The roar of outrage from the beast was nearly deafening and it tried to claw and beat at the source of its pain. Zevran quickly pulled his daggers out and jumped off the creature's back, landing solidly on the ground behind it. The ogre turned to face this new threat, swinging its fists wildly. Zevran lithely danced away from it, having narrowly missed being stuck by the ogre's fists. Lhiannon raised her staff and chanted a spell of fire, hitting the beast in the center of its back with a large ball of flame. It roared again, a great smoking wound opening on its back and filling the air with the foul stench of roasting flesh.

By this time, Loghain had picked himself up off the ground and launched himself at the ogre, burying his longsword into the middle of the blackened spot on its back. The ogre howled in outrage and pain, trying to pull Loghain and the sword from its back. Loghain held on for dear life for a moment before being shaken off and tumbling to the ground. His head smacked the hard packed dirt, causing his vision to blur and bright stars to swim in his eyes. The ogre staggered forward another step, then fell forward and was still. Zevran cautiously approached the ogre and slit its throat, ichor pouring forth and saturating the ground beneath it. "You can never be too careful," he panted, wiping his blades on the nearby grass in an attempt to clean them..

Lhiannon rushed forward and crouched at Loghain's side, helping him to sit up. She shook off one of her gauntlets and placed her fingertips on his cheek, murmuring a healing spell as she touched him. She could have just used her staff or her hands to aim it at him, but she found that she had an irrational urge to touch Loghain's skin just then. She had to _feel_ that he was all right. She felt the softness of his braided lock and the scratch of stubble against her fingers. _How positively naughty of me_ , she giggled to herself. _I'm a bad girl_. Loghain caught a flicker through the taint and looked at her, his brows furrowed.

"Are you all right?" she asked, suddenly feeling out of breath, and not just from the battle.

He murmured low to her so the others could not hear, irritation in his voice. "Perhaps you should ask yourself that question." He stood quickly, breaking the touch on his cheek. A shadow crossed over his face. "Thank you."

Lhiannon nodded, picking up her gauntlet and putting it back on. Loghain offered his hand to help her up, which she accepted. From the steps of the castle, a guard shouted out to her and waved. "My Lady!" She turned toward the voice and ran up the stairs, the pounding footsteps of her companions right behind her. She stopped in front of the guard, who was visibly relieved to see her.

"My Lady, I was told to watch for your arrival. Your fellow Grey Warden Riordan arrived shortly before the darkspawn did. He has urgent news for you. I shall take you to the hall; they are waiting for you there." He crisply turned and set an urgent pace into the hall, Lhiannon and the others following close behind.

When they arrived, Riordan, Arl Eamon, and Bann Teagan were waiting for them, all dressed in their heavy armor and weapons at their sides. A number of guards had been posted near the entrance, there no doubt to fight off any darkspawn that had succeeded in breaching the castle. Lhiannon approached the group and nodded to them, each nodding to her in return.

"Gentlemen, I'm glad to see you well. What news do you have?"

It was Riordan who answered first. "I am relieved to see that you and your companions arrived unharmed. The darkspawn that attacked Redcliffe today were somewhat few in number. We assumed that the horde was marching this way, but unfortunately that is not true."

"Not true?" Lhiannon asked, her eyes narrowing and a look of confusion on her face. "If they're not marching here, then where _are_ they marching?"

Arl Eamon spoke next, his voice grim. "Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is not heading here but toward Denerim itself." There were several gasps from behind Lhiannon as the news sank in.

"Denerim? How far away are they?" Loghain asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Perhaps two days," Eamon replied sadly. He avoided looking into Loghain's eyes, knowing that all he would see was anger and rage.

"How certain are you that they are headed toward the capital?" Lhiannon asked, the dread settling deep in her stomach and tying it in knots. _All those people…_

"I managed to get close enough to the horde so I could "listen in", if you please. I'm quite certain," Riordan stated with conviction.

Lhiannon shook her head and began to pace in front of the men, clearly agitated. "Why then did we think they were headed to Redcliffe? That would have been an important piece of information to have before we even left Denerim."

"I agree," Loghain growled angrily. "Why then did we leave Denerim only to double back? The capital is far too tempting a target for any enemy to ignore. Denerim should not have been left on its own."

"The darkspawn line is very wide and many of them roam away from the main horde," Riordan explained, holding up his hands to calm the growing tension. "Most of the darkspawn have been spotted here in the west, which is why we thought there were headed here." He paused, his face turning grim. "I am afraid there is another piece of news that is of dire concern. The archdemon has finally shown itself. It travels at the head of the horde."

"Maker's breath," Lhiannon sighed, her hand raised to her mouth and a chill racing down her spine. _It's here_.

Loghain bristled angrily, glaring accusingly at Riordan. "There is no way we can reach Denerim in two days time. It is too far."

"That is why we must begin a forced march to Denerim immediately with what soldiers we have," Eamon explained. "We must defend Denerim at all costs."

Lhiannon stopped pacing and pointed at the Arl. "It is the archdemon that is most important. It _must_ be defeated. Denerim can be saved if we defeat it."

Riordan nodded his head in agreement. "Only a Grey Warden can defeat the archdemon, so we must go as well."

"Then we march for Denerim and hope the army we've gathered will give us the chance we need to defeat it," Lhiannon stated before turning to the Arl. "How long until you are ready to march?"

"We leave at daybreak. I will give the orders immediately and let you know the moment we are ready to march. I have also sent word the Empress of Orlais asking for help. Hopefully, the Grey Wardens in Orlais will march to our aid. They should be here in about a week, unless she's written Ferelden off and decided to defend the Empire."

Lhiannon could feel Loghain's rising anger through the taint. The last thing he wanted was the damned _Orlesians_ coming to Ferelden. And that _Arl Eamon_ of all people asked them for help? Just opened the doors of Ferelden to them? Rendorn would be turning in his grave. Loghain found the thought sickening. He had had just about enough of Eamon and his meddling. Lhiannon turned to him with a sympathetic glance and held up her hand. Loghain kept his place, a dangerous look on his face. He would deal with the Arl later if he had the chance.

"Then get the army ready," Lhiannon stated. "I won't let the people in Denerim die without giving them a chance." Eamon and Teagan both gave her a short bow, then walked out of the hall. She turned to Riordan. "Exactly how are we to defeat the archdemon?"

Riordan looked at her in astonishment. "You mean you don't know? Of course you wouldn't…you, Loghain, and Alistair are new recruits. Duncan probably wouldn't have expected this…" his voice trailed off and he turned away, looking at the fire burning in the hearth behind him.

"Expected what?" Loghain slowly growled from where he stood behind Lhiannon. She felt the dread rising within her even as Loghain spoke. There was definitely something Riordan was not telling them and whatever it was, it could not be good. Her eyes narrowed at Riordan suspiciously.

Riordan quickly gathered his thoughts and turned to address Lhiannon and Loghain once more. "Come to my room before you turn in for the evening. We have Grey Warden matters to discuss." He bowed and left the room.

Lhiannon turned to Loghain, who was still visibly angry. "I can't believe Eamon called for help from the damned _Orlesians_ ," he growled menacingly, fists clenched so hard that Lhiannon could hear the metal and leather of his gauntlets squeaking in protest. "He had no business doing so." She put a restraining hand on his chest plate and looked up at him. "Then we'll just have to defeat the archdemon ourselves so they have no reason to come." Loghain grinned. He liked the way she thought.

Lhiannon dropped her hand from his chest. "Loghain, could you please wait here for a few moments? I'd like to ask Arl Eamon about Jowan."

Loghain nodded, "Don't be too long. Our _Orlesian_ senior Warden has beckoned us to see him." He did not bother hiding the sarcasm in his voice. "I do not care for his secrecy. He is hiding something; how perfectly _Orlesian_."

"We shall find out what he is hiding soon enough, Loghain," Lhiannon said, turning and walking toward the door the Arl recently departed through. She paused at the doorway and turned back to Loghain. "I have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

Lhiannon stood in the doorway of Arl Eamon's office, knocking on the doorjamb to get his attention. He had been busy shuffling paperwork on his desk. "May I have a word with you, ser?" she asked quietly. The Arl looked up from his desk, indicating that Lhiannon should enter and take a chair across from him. "Of course, Warden. Please come in."

Lhiannon held up her hand. "I will only be a minute. I just wanted to ask you about Jowan. Is he…?"

Arl Eamon paused in his work, a shadow crossing his face. "He yet lives. I will carry out his sentence after the Blight has been dealt with." He stopped, looking at Lhiannon for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

Lhiannon looked the Arl directly in the eye. "I would like to visit him, with your permission." Eamon looked at her warily. She sighed heavily. "Many mages who grow up in the Circle are not close to their blood family. Those of us who have been abandoned by our families find new families among the mages. Jowan has been my friend for a long time; we were very close at the Circle." She paused for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts. "I do not excuse what he has done to you and yours. Yet, he is like family to me."

Arl Eamon sat back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. He sighed, his eyes boring into her. "I normally do not allow such things. However, you are a special case. I will allow it, but the guard will remain."

Lhiannon bowed her head to the Arl as he rose from his desk and walked toward the door. "I understand. Thank you, ser." She moved from the doorway and followed the Arl through the castle to the stairs leading to the basement. Down the dimly lit stairs they traveled, through a narrow hallway and to the heavy, thick wooden door at the end.

"Ser?" Lhiannon asked quietly. "Might I ask one more thing?" Arl Eamon turned to look at her quizzically before nodding. "Yes?" he said.

"When the time comes for Jowan's sentence to be carried out, I would like to be here if at all possible. Will you please let me know?"

The Arl paused, looking away in thought before returning his eyes to Lhiannon. "I'll do what I can." Lhiannon nodded as Eamon raised his hand to knock on the door. He knocked three times and waited. A panel in the door slid open and the eyes of a guard peered out, looking coolly between the two. The panel slid shut and several bolts were heard moving in the door before it finally opened. "My Lord," the guard intoned, bowing toward to Arl Eamon as the door finished its inward swing. The Arl looked at the guard and indicated to Lhiannon. "This is Grey Warden Lhiannon. She has my permission to visit the mage for a short time." Eamon turned to Lhiannon. "I can only allow fifteen minutes, Warden."

"I appreciate it, ser," she nodded, brushing past the guard and entering the room as Arl Eamon turned and mounted the stairs. The guard closed the door behind her, running the bolts back into place. When he finished, he turned and beckoned Lhiannon to follow him, picking up a lantern from a nearby table. The guard led her down the dimly lit passage past cells that were mostly empty. Only a very few were occupied. At the end of the hall, the guard set the lantern on a hook in the wall, then turned to indicate the cell holding Jowan. Lhiannon nodded her thanks to the guard before turning to peer into the cell.

Jowan was lying on a small cot, his manacled wrists connected by a length of chain that ran to a large ring in a nearby wall. The Arl was shrewd all right; he knew keeping a mage's hands bound would prevent them from casting any sort of significant spell.

"Jowan?" Lhiannon called out quietly, wrapping her hands around the bars of the cell. They were cool and she felt an involuntary shiver travel through her. Jowan stirred at the sound of her voice, slowly opening his eyes and sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of them as he did so. He turned to look at her, confusion written in his features. His eyes narrowed, then suddenly went wide with recognition.

"Lhiannon?" he said, not quite believing what he saw.

Lhiannon smiled broadly at him. "Yes," she said, watching as he rose from his cot and hurried to the cell door, dragging the length of chain behind him. He brought his hands up as Lhiannon pushed hers through the bars, grasping his hands in a firm grip.

Jowan was thinner than she remembered, most likely due to his imprisonment. His hair had grown long and several days' worth of stubble covered his face. He wore a simple cotton shirt and trousers, wrinkled and somewhat dingy from being worn for several days without being cleaned. Lhiannon was not completely surprised to see Jowan in this condition; she was sure that if the Arl and Arlessa were so inclined, he would be dressed in little more than his small clothes and looking like an emaciated, wild hermit.

"I can't believe you're here," Jowan smiled at her. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"Are they treating you decently?" Lhiannon asked.

"All things considered, it's been all right," Jowan said quietly. "They keep me fed and allow me to bathe and get clean clothes every few days. I guess it could be worse." He smiled at her, squeezing her hands with a strength that surprised Lhiannon. "Tell me, what has happened since I last saw you?"

"Well, a Landsmeet was called to settle the civil war," Lhiannon began. "I had to duel Teyrn Loghain to settle it."

Jowan gasped. "Andraste's blood! You had to _duel_ the Teyrn?"

Lhiannon gave Jowan a small laugh, nodding her head slowly. "Yeah, I did. I won too. I could hardly believe it."

Jowan's deep laughter brought a smile to Lhiannon's face and she found herself laughing with him. "I would have _loved_ to see that!" he exclaimed. "What happened next?"

"Instead of executing him, I invoked the Right of Conscription and made Loghain a Grey Warden. Alistair is also going to take his place as King, since he's King Maric's son and heir to the line of Calenhad."

Jowan's laughter died off. He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. "I wouldn't have guessed that." He paused for a moment. "And what of the Blight?"

"The Grey Wardens came to Redcliffe thinking the archdemon and the horde would make their final assault here, but they are heading to Denerim instead. I leave with the army in the morning, but I needed to find out about you first."

Jowan leaned down and rested his cheek on Lhiannon's hand. She pulled one of her hands free of his and set it on his head, smoothing the wayward locks with a gentle touch.

"I'm glad you came to see me," he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. "I can go to the Maker a little more peacefully now."

"I asked…" Lhiannon began as she stroked his head, her voice becoming thicker as she spoke. "I asked Arl Eamon to let me know when your…sentence…is to be…carried out." She paused, fighting the lump that had formed in her throat. Tears stung in her eyes but she was determined to be strong for Jowan's sake. "I want to be here for you."

"I would like that," Jowan whispered, closing his eyes and falling silent as Lhiannon continued to smooth his tousled hair.

"Warden!" Arl Eamon's voice called out. "It's time."

Jowan raised his head and took Lhiannon's hands one last time, kissing each one in turn. When he released them, she brought her hands up to the sides of his face, holding it gently. "Maker watch over you, Jowan."

"And you, Lhiannon." He suddenly grinned at her, the sadness in his eyes replaced by a fierce determination. "Give the archdemon hell."

* * *

Lhiannon and Loghain walked through the castle to Riordan's room in the guest wing after eating a quick meal. They had spoken little; both of them preoccupied by whatever Riordan seemed to be hiding from them. Riordan was waiting for them when they arrived, a fire burning in the brazier that lent a warm glow to the room. He gestured to a small seating area near the door. "Ah, Lhiannon, Loghain. Please, sit down. We have much to discuss."

Lhiannon shot a sideways glance at Loghain when Riordan had turned to clear scrolls off the table. Loghain glowered at Riordan. Lhiannon chuckled to herself. Brothers and sister in the Grey Wardens they may be, but Riordan's Orlesian background was of far more interest to Loghain. She could tell he trusted Oghren to quit drinking and join the Chantry more than he trusted Riordan. They pulled the chairs away from the table and sat, waiting for Riordan to finish. After a few moments of shuffling the scrolls around, Riordan joined them at the table, his elbows resting on the surface.

"I had told you before that there were reasons why more Grey Wardens are needed during the battle with the archdemon." Riordan paused and looked at Lhiannon and Loghain in turn. "Do either of you know what happens when an archdemon dies?"

Lhiannon and Loghain looked at each other with confusion, then back to Riordan. She spoke for both of them. "No. Duncan never mentioned that."

Riordan nodded. "I thought as much. Not anyone can kill the archdemon. It must be a Grey Warden. If someone other than a Grey Warden kills the archdemon, its essence will seek out the nearest darkspawn and transform it into an archdemon. This makes the beast nearly immortal. If a Grey Warden delivers the killing blow, the essence will find the taint within them and try to transform it. Where darkspawn are soulless creatures, a Grey Warden is not. The archdemon is unable to possess the Grey Warden." He paused, waiting expectantly for them to make the connection so he would not have to say it out loud.

Lhiannon and Loghain were silent for a moment, their faces bearing confused looks. Slowly, understanding began to dawn on Loghain's face, but it was Lhiannon who spoke first.

"But if the essence cannot possess a Grey Warden…."

Loghain interrupted her. "Both the Warden and archdemon are destroyed." He sat back in his chair, the realization sinking in.

Riordan nodded. "Now you see why we need as many Grey Wardens battling the archdemon as possible. When the battle comes, I should be the one to deliver the killing blow. I am the senior Warden here; my Calling will be coming long before either of you. Should I fail, the task falls to you first, Lhiannon, then to you, Loghain. If we can't defeat the archdemon, then Maker help us all."

Lhiannon's stomach began to turn, her meal quickly souring in her stomach. One of them was going to die. In her darkest heart she secretly hoped it would be Riordan; that was selfish of her and she immediately felt guilty about it. However, she knew that if dying in the service of Ferelden was required of her, she would willingly do it. She knew Loghain would agree. It did not stop the bitter sorrow from nearly overwhelming her though.

* * *

As soon as Lhiannon and Loghain had gone off to speak with Riordan, Morrigan quickly got to work. Grabbing her pack, she went to the room Lhiannon was staying in. She would return here right after the meeting, Morrigan was certain, and she wanted to make sure she spoke with Lhiannon straight away. She opened her pack and pulled out a bowl. It was fashioned from the skull of some creature from the Korcari Wilds, strangely oblong but shallow. She set it on the table and poured water from a flask into it. Adding some herbs and muttering a few words, she peered into the bowl. Morrigan was skilled at scrying, so almost immediately an image of Riordan, Lhiannon, and Loghain appeared in the water. She could even hear their voices within her mind. Morrigan's mouth turned upward in a sneer. Skilled indeed.

Riordan was telling them about how an archdemon was killed. Morrigan raised her eyebrows in slight surprise; Flemeth was right after all. Flemeth had told Morrigan many half-truths over the years, but what she heard from Riordan confirmed both what Flemeth told her before leaving the Wilds and what she read in the grimoire. A Grey Warden would be sacrificed in killing the archdemon. Morrigan waved her hand over the bowl and the imaged faded. She pulled the grimoire out of her pack and turned to a page she had marked with a strip of vellum. It was a ritual born of old magic that would both save the Warden and complete Flemeth's task at the same time. Morrigan smiled; the old ways would be preserved after all. Though she had spent a great deal of time studying the ritual—she had the words and movements to it all but memorized—it never hurt to review it again.

It was a few minutes later when Morrigan heard footsteps and low voices in the hall. Loghain and Lhiannon. They paused for a moment outside Loghain's room. Morrigan strained to hear them from where she was standing near the fireplace but she was unable to discern what they were discussing. A minute later, the door to the room opened and Lhiannon entered. Morrigan turned to face her and was shocked at what she saw. Lhiannon looked like she was going to fall to pieces, her face pale and full of sorrow.

"Morrigan," Lhiannon choked out, startled to see Morrigan standing there and trying to bring composure to her face. "What in the Maker's name are you doing here?"

"I am here to help you," Morrigan said quietly. "I know what happens when an archdemon dies. Flemeth told me."

Lhiannon stared at her, disbelieving. Morrigan watched as Lhiannon's hands closed into tightly clenched fists. "Why didn't you tell me?" she growled through gritted teeth.

Morrigan spread her hands in front of her. "Would you have believed me if I did? I think not. What if I told you there was a way to avoid having a Grey Warden die? The loop in your hole, so to speak."

Lhiannon looked at her suspiciously. "How?" she asked guardedly.

"There is a ritual. 'Tis old magic; from long before the Circle was ever born. A way to capture the essence of the old god without a Grey Warden dying in the process."

"Old magic," Lhiannon's voice trailed off, questioning.

Morrigan began to play with a candle that was lit on the fireplace mantle. She would extinguish and relight the flame with a flick of her wrist. "T'was the reason Flemeth sent me with you. The ritual requires that I be impregnated by a Grey Warden. Tonight. When the archdemon dies, it will seek out the child like a beacon. At this stage, the child can absorb the taint and neutralize it, leaving behind the untainted soul of an old god."

Lhiannon paused, not quite believing what she was hearing. She paced for a moment, mulling over what Morrigan had just told her. "Wait, Morrigan. I don't understand. A child? It will be tainted! Even if this does happen, won't the child be destroyed when the archdemon's essence passes to it?"

"No, it won't be harmed or destroyed. It will be changed, but it is hardly a child at that point." Morrigan turned to look Lhiannon directly in her eyes, pointing her finger for emphasis. "It _will_ work, and it _will_ save your life." Morrigan paused, cocking her head slightly as she looked at Lhiannon. "You will, however, have to convince Loghain to lay with me tonight."

" _What?_ " Lhiannon spat, her face twisted in disbelief. "Loghain would never agree to do that! Why not Riordan?"

"No," Morrigan insisted. "It has to be with someone who was recently made a Grey Warden. It obviously can't be you and that fool Alistair is, thankfully, nowhere close. It has to be Loghain. Order him, if you have to."

Lhiannon stopped her pacing and whirled about to face Morrigan. "Are you _mad_? I can't order Loghain do to _that!"_

"Then plead. Sway. Beg. Cajole. Whatever word you wish to use, just get him to do it."

Lhiannon looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Let's say for the sake of argument I convince Loghain to lay with you tonight. What happens afterward?"

"I will take the child and disappear to raise it as I see fit. You will not follow me. _Ever_." Morrigan was absolutely adamant. "You must decide, Lhiannon, if 'tis a path you wish to take. I know you have feelings for Loghain." Lhiannon's eyes went wide and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, knowing that trying to hide it would be futile. "What?" she whispered, so softly that even Morrigan had to strain to hear it.

"Yes, I see how you look at him when you think no one is watching," Morrigan said, her voice low and serious. "I see the look on your face when you make physical contact with him. I see the way _he_ looks at _you_. Did you think I wouldn't see it?" Morrigan paused, waiting for her words to settle into Lhiannon's mind and heart. "Would you allow him to sacrifice himself, knowing how you feel for him? Could you sacrifice _yourself_ and never know if you and he could have had something more?"

Lhiannon sighed, weariness in her demeanor. "And just what am I supposed to tell him?" she spat at Morrigan angrily. "'Loghain, please have sex with Morrigan tonight so she can conceive a demon child and save the Grey Wardens?' Do you know how absolutely _ludicrous_ that sounds?" Lhiannon's words were bitter and an equally bitter tear fell from her eye. She angrily wiped the tear away. Crying in front of Morrigan was the last thing she wanted to do, but found she could not help it. Morrigan had opened a floodgate inside of her and Lhiannon had no idea how to stop everything from pouring out. Morrigan had been absolutely right with regards to her feelings for Loghain. Those feelings suddenly came rushing over her in a torrent.

"My friend," Morrigan implored quietly, putting a hand on Lhiannon's arm, "I've no wish to see you die when you face the archdemon. Not when I can help you. And I _can_ help you. You must convince him to lay with me tonight. However you do that is up to you."

Lhiannon's shoulders slumped, a resigned sigh escaping from her lips. "I make no promises, Morrigan." Lhiannon turned and left the room, the weariness evident in her movements. Morrigan watched her go, a slow smile spreading on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Did you see the Star Wars shout out in here? There are two of them. ;) Yeah, I'm a total geek._


	11. The Very Ground Has Shifted

Loghain was pacing in his room. He never slept before a battle and tonight would be no different. He was pondering the disconcerting conversation with Riordan. The fact that the whole _reason_ Grey Wardens existed had been kept from them until this point made him seethe with anger. One of the three Grey Wardens would be sacrificed to stop the Blight. _Duncan should have told Lhiannon right after her Joining what the true purpose of a Grey Warden was,_ Loghain thought angrily. He would happily sacrifice himself if it meant saving his beloved Ferelden and everything that made his nation great. He was not, however, prepared to let Lhiannon do it. She was young yet and had many years of living ahead of her. Her sacrifice would be a waste, not only to the Grey Wardens but to Ferelden itself as well. Ferelden _needed_ people like her. Unlike himself; he was old and had much to atone for. Suddenly, he became angry, banging his fist on a nearby table. Lhiannon had grown on him and damn it to the Black City, he was not going to stand by and watch her sacrifice herself. He would protect her and keep her safe if was the last thing he did; it probably would be. She, and Ferelden, deserved no less.

There was a soft knock on the door. Loghain turned and went to it, annoyed at whoever could be disturbing him at this time of night and preparing to harshly admonish whoever was there. When he opened the door, however, he was surprised to see Lhiannon standing before him.

"Lhiannon, you should be resting," he said, pausing when he saw the look of anguish on her face. She was trying to hide it but doing a poor job of it. "What's wrong?" He stepped aside and motioned for her to enter, closing the door behind her. He noticed her hands shaking as she passed him. Loghain had never seen her looking this agonized before and he felt a cold prickle begin to work its way down his spine. He reached out through the taint to gain some insight, but her emotions were so wild that he could ascertain nothing. At the heart of them though, was a crushing despair.

She stood just inside the room, her eyes unfocused and her body visibly trembling. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were freezing. Loghain was becoming concerned. He gently reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Lhiannon, tell me what is wrong," he commanded her quietly, but firmly. His touch on her shoulder seemed to snap her back to the moment and she finally looked at him.

"I was just speaking with Morrigan," she began, her voice unsteady. "She claims to know how to ensure no Grey Warden dies defeating the archdemon."

"Morrigan?" Loghain exclaimed, puzzled. "What sort of nonsense is she spouting now?"

"Do you trust me?" She suddenly blurted, her dark eyes locked onto his with such force that he could not tear his own away. Loghain paused for a moment, taken aback by her question. "Yes," he said quickly, before he realized he had even spoken the word. Even so, he instantly knew it to be true. He repeated it more forcefully. "Yes, I do."

Lhiannon sighed. Damn Morrigan and her old magic. Damn Morrigan for making her do this to her and to Loghain. Damn Duncan for keeping the truth silent, inadvertently or not. "Morrigan knows of a ritual that will ensure no Grey Warden will die when we kill the archdemon. A magic ritual. Old magic."

Loghain's brow wrinkled in distaste. _Old_ magic; nothing good could come of that. "What sort of ritual and how are we involved?" he asked cautiously. He could tell from the look that crossed Lhiannon's face that he would not care for it much, but there was  a desperation in her eyes that begged him to consider her words.

She shook her head as she lowered her gaze to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't even know how to say this, so I'll just say it. The ritual involves you lying with her. Tonight. I will not lie to you either; it will produce a child."

Loghain thought he had heard everything before, but nothing prepared him for what Lhiannon said. His head spun.

" _What_?"

Was she joking? If so, it was in poor taste. He released her shoulder and ran his hands through his hair. His hands stopped halfway through, holding his head and he wondered if she was trying to deceive him in some way. He turned and took several steps away from Lhiannon before turning back toward her. He stared intently at her, but could not discern any deception from her, either from her face or through the taint. Revulsion at the very idea she proposed made his stomach lurch and the bile rise in his throat.

"And you endorse this…theory…of hers? You _know_ that marsh witch is only concerned for herself." Loghain rushed forward and grabbed Lhiannon's shoulders with such force that she would have small marks there later. "If dying is part of our duty, _we should not shirk it!_ I want no part of this."

Lhiannon looked at him, the despair in her eyes growing ever deeper. "Is it so wrong to not want to die? To not watch Riordan die?" Her breath suddenly hitched as a lump formed in her throat and tears stung in her eyes. "To not watch _you_ die?"

Loghain released Lhiannon's shoulders, walking back toward the mantle and the warm fire within it. Lhiannon watched him standing at the mantle, both hands resting on it as he looked into the fire. She could see the tension in the stiff way he held himself. He turned back to face her, his hand held up in front of him in indignation.

"Since my Joining, I have come to expect the unexpected from you. But this…this is a stretch, even for you. You are far more pragmatic than this. That she asked you to do this is so far beneath you it is laughable."

Loghain paused, watching Lhiannon carefully for several moments. She was holding her shoulders where he had clutched her; he winced at the thought of the marks he no doubt left there. It suddenly dawned on him that she was _asking_ this of him. She could have simply walked in and _commanded_ him to do it, but had chosen not to. His brows furrowed, wondering what her motivation was. "You could have ordered me to do this and I would be bound by duty to comply," Loghain  began, his voice low and cautious. "Yet, you do not. Why is this, I wonder?"

"Loghain, perhaps it is best if you speak to her directly. _Please_ ," she said softly. She caught his gaze and looked at him with such desperation that it nearly split him in two. Why would she look at him like that? Against his better judgment, he scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He was going to regret this, of that he was completely certain. "I will speak to the marsh witch, but I have consented to _nothing_."

Lhiannon nodded and turned toward the door. Her head was down and she stared at her feet as they walked. Loghain followed her down the hall to her room, his unease growing with each step. As they entered the room, he saw Morrigan sitting on the bed as if she knew they were coming, one leg crossed over the other and hands on her raised knee. Of course she knew they would come.

"Ah, you are here. You have spoken to Loghain, yes?" Morrigan asked Lhiannon. She looked up at Morrigan and spoke, her voice devoid of emotion. "I told him that he would have to lay with you tonight and that there would be a child."

Morrigan snorted and looked toward Loghain. "Honesty wouldn't have been my first choice, but 'tis done."

Loghain held up a hand and looked at Morrigan with such loathing that she nearly laughed aloud. She felt the same way for him. At least they knew where they stood with one another. This was going to be such an _interesting_ evening.

"Wait," Loghain growled, narrowing his eyes at Morrigan. "I have not consented to anything yet, witch. I demand answers."

"Of course," Morrigan replied, trying to make her voice soothing. She uncrossed her legs slowly before crossing them again, her movements both graceful and vulgar. Loghain felt his stomach turn. "What do you wish to know? Lhiannon told you of the ritual, yes?"

Loghain scoffed at her. "Yes, she told me. My question for you is what of the child? You will not come back with, _it_ , later and try to lay a claim on my daughter's throne, will you?"

"No," Morrigan said emphatically, "I will not. I will take the child and leave. It shall never know who the father is. You shan't ever see me again."

"Thank the Maker," Loghain sneered, not bothering to hide his contempt for Morrigan. He turned to look at Lhiannon, catching her gaze. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. Agreeing to this appalling ritual would avoid the sacrifice of a Grey Warden. It would avoid _her_ sacrifice, should she be the one to slay the archdemon. He knew her well enough that if she had half the chance, she would be the one to destroy the archdemon, come hell or high water. He knew now that he would do anything to protect her, even if it meant storming the gates of the Black City itself. He did not completely understand why he felt that way, but it felt right.

"Loghain," Lhiannon said, her voice even. "The decision is yours. I won't order you to do it." Her voice dropped to a barely discernible whisper. "I can't."

Loghain went to Lhiannon and stood before her, looking down in those dark eyes that were so completely different from his own. She looked up at him, uncertain as to what he would decide. Loghain studied Lhiannon's face for a long moment, committing her features to memory for the dark task that lay ahead. Finally, he nodded at her; she returned it. Loghain then quickly spun about and faced Morrigan. "Let us get this over with before I change my mind," he growled. _I am going to regret this. Maker forgive me._

"A wise decision," Morrigan replied, triumph in her voice.

"Shut up," he snarled at her. "You'll pardon me, however, if I close my eyes and think of anything but _you_."

"Who or what you think about is of no concern to me," she said, a sly smile spreading across her face. She stood and walked to the door, beckoning to Loghain as she passed. "Come Loghain, let us go somewhere more private."

* * *

Lhiannon was feeling restless, pacing back and forth in her guest room. Why did this ritual bother her so much? She understood the reasoning behind it—why sacrifice someone needlessly? It made sense, strange as it may sound. Mulling the whole situation over in her mind, it was not that it was old magic involved. It was not even the fact that a child would be conceived whose only purpose was to accept the untainted soul of the old god. She supposed that fact should be bothering her more, but strangely, it was not. After several minutes it dawned on her. It was the fact that Loghain was with Morrigan…they would be together, intimate… She knew that the only feelings between Loghain and Morrigan involved thinly disguised mutual loathing, but it bothered her just the same. She stopped in her tracks as another realization hit her like the blow from a hammer. Morrigan had been absolutely right; her feelings for Loghain had gone well beyond comrades or friends. She suddenly felt like the walls of the room were closing in and the temperature rising. She needed to take a walk and hopefully clear her head.

A few minutes later, she was walking through the gardens behind the castle and found herself at the edge of a reflecting pool there. She has seen it during the day several times, masses of flowers creating a riot of color around the pool. Now, with the darkness of night and the moon overhead, the pool took on an ethereal, silvery glow. She sat down on a stone bench and plucked a yellow flower from nearby. One by one, she began to pluck the satiny petals off the stem and tossed them idly into the pool. There they floated on tiny ripples, bright spots on the silvery water.

Lhiannon tried to think back to see where these strong feelings for Loghain came from. After all, this was the man who just a few months ago wanted to put a stop to the Grey Wardens at all costs. He had even procured the services of an _assassin_ to stop her—and now she was _attracted_ to him? The idea was completely absurd, but try as she might, telling  herself anything other than 'I am attracted to him' sounded and felt like a lie. She did admire his skills as a warrior and tactician; who in Ferelden did not? He was the Hero of River Dane. He helped King Maric and Queen Rowan rebuild Ferelden after the Orlesians were driven out. He liberated Kinloch Hold when Remille usurped it. Despite what he had done in recent months, the man was still respected and admired by many Fereldens far and wide; she had begun to consider herself among that number as she learned more about him since his Joining. They had actually become friendly over time…so maybe…it was the beginning of something more? How could she have let this happen?

She threw the now bare stem of the flower into the pool and plucked another flower, this one a bright red. The flower had waxy, almost sticky, petals. She began to pluck the petals off this new flower and tossed them into the water absentmindedly. Try as she might, she could not deny it to herself; could not _lie_ to herself.  Morrigan was right; Lhiannon had developed feelings for the Hero of River Dane, the man who named himself regent, the man she spared and conscripted into the Grey Wardens. Could he ever see her as a _woman_ , not just a companion or a Grey Warden? The Maker did have a sense of humor after all. _I must be completely mad_ , she thought to herself.

* * *

While Lhiannon was coming to certain conclusions by the reflecting pool, Loghain was drawing a few conclusions himself. Morrigan was absolutely and completely revolting to him. She had the sinewy movements of a serpent with the personality to match. Loghain willed his stomach not to turn as Morrigan doused the candles in her room, save one. He wondered how he was going to actually perform this deed; he did not think he would be physically able to. She turned to him and spoke, her voice turning his spine to ice and causing an involuntary shudder of revulsion.

"Come Loghain. 'Tis for the good of the Grey Wardens. This shan't be as difficult as you may think," she purred.

"The only reason I do this is for the Grey Wardens," he sneered, not bothering to hide his contempt. He glared at her, wishing he could wrap his hands around her throat and choke the life from her.

Morrigan laughed, waving her hand at him. "Of course, if that is the tale you wish to tell yourself, I shall not stop you. I _know_ your heart belongs elsewhere, and not just to Ferelden or the Grey Wardens." Her voice dropped low and a conspiratorial smirk crossed her face. "I could always put _her_ face in your mind, if you wish it."

Loghain clenched both his teeth and his fists. "You will mind your words, witch," he snarled at her.

Morrigan had moved over to the bed and began to languidly remove her clothing. She rather enjoyed seeing Loghain squirm. It made her feel powerful and she could feel her arousal increasing as the magic began to work its way around her. "Come to the bed, unless you wish to perform the ritual on your feet. Or against the wall, it matters not." She turned her back to him and began to remove her small clothes, throwing a seductive look over her shoulder at Loghain. A dark shadow crossed his face and he scowled. Morrigan smiled and very nearly laughed out loud. Powerful indeed.

The magic swirled around Morrigan like a shroud. She began to send it out and away from her body until it enveloped both her and Loghain. It began to have the desired effect as she noticed his arousal beginning to take shape. Loghain was aghast that the magic could make his body react in such a manner, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. Naked, she slithered onto the bed and gestured to Loghain. "T'would be easier to perform the ritual without your clothing in the way." Loghain snarled at her again, but began to remove his clothing, making sure they were within reach. When he was finished, he quickly climbed onto the bed and on top of Morrigan. He was going to complete this task as quickly as possible, and maybe he would hurt her in the process. He certainly _did_ want to hurt  Morrigan, not only for having to do this Maker forsaken ritual in the first place, but then offering to defile _her_ image during this task. The thought turned his vision red with anger and it took every ounce of control he possessed to not reach out and simply snap  Morrigan's neck.

Loghain shoved her legs apart with his knee and forcefully pushed himself into her. Morrigan gasped and arched her back into him, a triumphant laugh escaping her lips. Loghain grabbed her wrists with one hand and a large lock of hair with the other. He yanked her head aside by the hair and pinned her wrists above it, putting as much weight into his hand as possible. He felt the bones in her wrists grind together and Morrigan hissed in pain. Once her wrists were pinned, he plunged himself roughly into Morrigan, trying to push harder with every thrust. He despised her, and the rage drove him into Morrigan harder. She was gasping and moaning beneath him, her eyes closed and a smug look on her face. The smugness in her face made him even angrier, something he did not think was possible. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist to draw him in deeper but he yanked her hair again, even harder than before. He wanted as little of her touching him as possible. She hissed and swore in a language he never heard before.

"Do not do that," he snarled through gritted teeth. He could feel the urgency building within him and knew that his peak was approaching; it would not be soon enough. Mustering all his strength, he thrust himself into her one last time, arching his head toward the sky and roaring out loud as his seed filled her. _Maker forgive_ _me_ , he thought as his convulsions finished. The deed left him exhausted, but he would not rest upon Morrigan's body. He immediately withdrew and climbed off her and the bed, seeking to put some distance between them. The magical forces began to recede and he saw that he was shaking as he reached for his clothes and began to quickly dress. His stomach roiled and he fought to keep the bile from reaching his throat. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to find the nearest washtub and scrub her essence from his skin.

Morrigan was still on the bed, breathing heavily with the exertion of both the act and weaving the spell. She could feel Loghain's seed inside her womb and she sighed contentedly, moving her hands to her abdomen. The ritual worked; through the spell, she had felt when his seed quickened her. Soon there would be the untainted soul of an old god for her child. She smiled and patted her stomach.

"T'was not as bad as you thought, yes?" she asked smugly, wrapping her arms behind her head. Loghain glowered at her but said nothing as he turned his back to her and began to walk toward the door. "May I give you a word of advice before you leave?" Morrigan called out to him.

He stopped, but did not turn to face her. "What advice could you possibly have that I would want?"

"Death comes as it will. Tell her how you feel. Tonight. You may not have occasion to later."

"Is there a point to this? If so I have failed to grasp it."

"I see how you look at her," Morrigan began, her voice serious yet mocking. "I saw how you comforted her after the last real nightmare she had. You let no one close to you, yet you have allowed her to worm her way into your cold and bitter heart. Both of you have so much to say to the other, but neither of you have done so. Whether 'tis cowardice or foolishness, who can say? T'would be a pity, however, leaving so much unsaid before the battle. One never knows when death comes."

Loghain scoffed, then left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was glad that either way, he would see no more of the apostate witch soon.

* * *

Loghain walked to Lhiannon's room to see if she was still awake. Morrigan's last remark was still very fresh in his mind. The witch, he hated to admit, had a point. That Morrigan could see through him so easily was disturbing. Deep in his mind, Loghain knew that he consented to the ritual to ensure that neither he nor Lhiannon died during the battle with the archdemon. Riordan never crossed his mind; somehow, Loghain knew that Riordan would not figure into the battle. It would come down to a true Ferelden to strike the killing blow and he would do whatever it took to ensure they both survived. He reached her door and knocked softly.

"Lhiannon?"

There was no answer. He tried the latch and found it unlocked; he opened the door a crack and peered inside. The room was empty, the fire in the hearth burning low. As he was closing the door, an elven servant passed by. "You there," Loghain called, "have you seen the Grey Warden Lhiannon recently?"

"Yes, Warden," the elf bowed. "I saw her walking outside to the gardens."

Loghain curtly nodded and turned toward his room to grab a cloak. Somehow, he was not surprised that she would be out in the gardens. Being born a farmer, he was fond of gardens and often sought solitude there when he needed to clear his head. It was the perfect place to find peace; he and Anora had spent a great deal of time at the gardens in Denerim in recent months. He donned his cloak and went outside.

After a few minutes of searching, both with his eyes and through the taint, he found Lhiannon sitting on a stone bench beside a reflecting pool. She had a far away look on her face and was absentmindedly plucking the petals off flowers and tossing them into the pool. There were quite a few liberated petals floating on the surface. Loghain quietly approached but she had not noticed him yet. She appeared to be deep in thought, her eyes distant and seemingly unfocused.

"I'm sure the gardener will be quite cross with you for picking the flowers," he said quietly as he closed the final distance between them.

Lhiannon nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke. "Loghain! Maker's breath, you startled me!"

He chuckled. "I'm sorry—it was not my intention to sneak up on you."

Lhiannon waived the apology off. "There's no need for apologies. I was just…lost in thought and did not hear you approach." She motioned to the bench. "Would you care to join me?"

"Indeed," he said as he took a seat beside her. "This is quite peaceful."

"It is," Lhiannon agreed. "I can almost forget the Blight here."

They both looked out over the pool for several moments, not saying anything. Both of them had so much to say to the other, but neither knew where to begin. "It is done," Loghain finally said, arms resting on his thighs and his head down, looking at the ground between his feet.

Lhiannon nodded. "I am glad that it's over with. But…" Lhiannon paused, unsure of what to say next.

Loghain turned his head to look at her. Lhiannon was staring intently at the pool, an anxious look on her face. "But what?" Loghain prompted.

In a voice that was barely above a whisper, Lhiannon answered. "I was…worried about you."

"You were worried?" Loghain asked quietly, questioning in his voice.

"Yes," Lhiannon said. "I feel like I forced you into that damned ritual. Like I gave you no choice. I care for you, Loghain." Her words began to tumble out and she found herself unable to stop them. "I didn't want to see her hurt you. I didn't want to see her _with_ you. I agreed with the ritual because I don't want to die and I don't want to watch _you_ die either. I know that sounds selfish and perhaps I am, but…you have become important to me Loghain…" She stopped, putting her head in her hands and feeling like a complete fool. _Oh Maker, what have I done?_ she thought, feeling the color rise in her face.

Loghain turned his gaze back to the pool, his mind racing. After all that had happened, Lhiannon _did_ feel something for him. The marsh witch was right. However it had happened, it appeared she was not the only one rending walls asunder. The thought was both thrilling and disconcerting to him. He turned back to her, gently took her chin in his hand, and turned her face to him. She looked positively frightened. Even in the dim light he saw the color flush her cheeks. She could not meet his gaze.

"Lhiannon," Loghain said firmly, "you gave me a choice; you didn't force me to do it. I did it of my own volition." He paused and took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice grew quiet. "It was to avoid the needless sacrifice of a Grey Warden, but not only that..." He paused, not sure if he should go on. He caught her gaze in his own and held it for a moment. In that moment, both felt something stirring to life within, an awakening that found their souls reaching out and finding the missing pieces of one within the other. The very ground seemed to shift beneath them as their hearts beat faster and the blood roared in their ears.

Loghain turned away with a sigh, releasing the gentle hold on Lhiannon's chin with tremendous difficulty. "We must focus on the task at hand—defeating the archdemon. Everything else must wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: Oh boy. This was hard.  
>  Thanks to everyone for following along. I appreciate it a great deal!_


	12. The Nightmare in Flesh

A knock on the door in the wee hours of the morning woke Lhiannon from a restless sleep. She rose from her bed, padding to the door in a simple cotton shift to find one of the Arl's servants there with a tray of food, telling her that the army was prepared to march within the hour. She took the offered food and set it on the table, turning to her pack to begin dressing for the march.

Lhiannon was still feeling remorse at what she had asked Loghain to do the night before, leaving her sleep fitful and thin. He had not gone into details regarding what happened—nor did she want to know any—but had merely reassured her that she had no reason to feel guilty. He had spoken to her firmly, but there was also a tenderness in his voice that she had never heard before. The thought made her smile as she pulled her greaves off the armor rack and began to secure them into place.

Another knock on the door a few minutes later interrupted her thoughts. Grabbing a piece of bread from the table, she went to the door to find Loghain standing on the other side, completely dressed in his silverite armor with his pack slung over his shoulder, weapon and shield in place. He scoffed and shook his head at her when she saw that she was only dressed in armor from the waist down.

"You do intend on joining the rest of Ferelden today, don't you?" he scoffed at her, a wry grin turning up one corner of his mouth. He walked over and pulled her breast and back plates off the armor rack, handing the breastplate to her as she finished chewing the bread she was eating.

"A girl has to eat, Loghain," she said, taking the breastplate and holding it in place as he maneuvered the backplate into position, securing one side while she secured the other. While she finished adjusting the last of the buckles and straps, Loghain turned toward the table and grabbed a piece of bread off her plate, taking a bite as he watched her finish securing her armor.

"Are you ready for this?" Loghain asked Lhiannon as she approached the table and began to wrap the rest of the food in napkins. She placed some of the small bundles into her pack.

"Can one ever be fully ready to march to war?" Lhiannon replied, setting her pack on the table and looking to Loghain, holding out several of the small wrapped packets to him.

"I watched a dragon fly over a battlefield once; River Dane," Loghain said, reaching out to accept her offering. "It was a majestic sight; a majestic creature. This creature—I want to see its carcass burning after we've severed its head and sent its essence to the wind."

Lhiannon gave him a melancholy smile as she sheathed her sword and grabbed her staff. "Well, let's not keep it waiting then." She turned to pick up her pack from the table when she felt Loghain's hand on her shoulder. She paused, frozen in place by the heavy, yet comforting weight of his hand.

"You have become important to me as well," he said quietly before he turned and walked out the door ahead of her.

* * *

The armies began their march to Denerim at dawn as Arl Eamon ordered. The Grey Wardens and their companions rode out ahead of the main army, scouting for darkspawn and relaying messages back to the commanders in the field. They only stopped briefly to rest and eat quick meals. Even stopping for an hour seemed too long to Lhiannon. They had to get to Denerim. Queen Anora and Alistair would be there with what troops they had and they needed to be reinforced.

The armies had marched all day and night, stopping only occasionally for short breaks. At dawn on the second day, Arl Eamon commanded the army to pick up the pace. It would be a miracle from the Maker if they arrived in Denerim before the horde could ravage the city. Lhiannon did not hold out much hope for that. The feel of darkspawn through the taint was becoming stronger; it felt like thousands of them were on the move, the seething in her blood growing stronger the closer they came to the capital. On through the night and into the next day they marched, the Arl setting a punishing pace. It was afternoon when the walls of Denerim became visible in the distance. Once in sight, Riordan had taken a number of riders and soldiers with him to head into Denerim ahead of the main army. They would reconnoiter and report back to the Arl.

The darkspawn had indeed reached Denerim first. They could hear the sounds of the main horde and saw smoke in the air. Lhiannon's sense of the darkspawn nearly overwhelmed her. They were everywhere and nearly on all sides of them. Suddenly, she felt a shiver run through her and looked to Loghain to see if he felt it too. He had turned ashen and was looking into the skies above Denerim. "Look," he whispered in horrified awe, pointing toward Denerim.

The archdemon soared above the city, its dark shape severely contrasted against the sky. Lhiannon felt her stomach clench in fear and tried to force it away. They were so close to it now that they could almost understand it talking to the horde. It wanted to destroy everything in its path and urged the darkspawn to obey its will. This was the reason they were here. Loghain had walked his horse next to hers and turned to her. Her eyes were wide with awe and fear.

"We will succeed," Loghain said assuredly. Lhiannon hoped he was right. Arl Eamon brought his horse alongside the Grey Wardens, turning toward Lhiannon as he stopped. "You should say something to the armies; bolster their courage."

Lhiannon felt the pit in her stomach grow even deeper; she hated speaking in front of crowds like this. She knew that hearing from the Grey Wardens however would indeed bolster the soldiers' courage. Taking a deep breath, she turned her horse around and galloped to the front of the gathered army, holding her hand up for attention. A hush fell over the army as they watched her ride before them.

"We stand here before the gates of Denerim, a city that has known the joys of peace and the horrors of war," Lhiannon began, shouting as loud as her voice would allow. "Where before we fought to throw off the yoke of those who would dominate us, today we fight an enemy that seeks nothing less than our destruction.

"This is the land of Andraste's birth; this is her very city, and we will not give it up without a fight! I know you're scared; I feel the same fear as you. But we need to look beyond our fear and find the courage that has united us and made us strong.

"We are Fereldens! We fight for those who have gone before us! We fight for the memory of King Cailan and those who died at Ostagar. We fight for the future King, Alistair, heir to Calenhad's throne. We fight for our Queen, Anora. We fight for the safety of Thedas. And we fight for the Grey Wardens!"

Loghain felt his own courage bolstered and a chill run down his spine as Lhiannon stood in the stirrups of her saddle, pulling her borrowed silverite sword from its scabbard and raising it high above her head. He was reminded of the warrior Queen he beheld before the battle at River Dane; Lhiannon's magnificence held Loghain in awe much like Rowan's once did. Lhiannon's shouts were even louder now, louder that either one thought possible.

"Let the people of Denerim hear you, so that you may bolster them with your courage!" Lhiannon shouted, holding her sword high. "Let the darkspawn hear you, so that they may know the true meaning of fear! And let the archdemon hear you, so that it knows death has come for it!"

Loghain spurred his horse forward, bringing it to Lhiannon's side. He pulled his sword and held it high, turning and looking at Lhiannon with determination in his eyes. "For Ferelden!" he shouted, standing in his stirrups and thrusting his sword high in the air. Lhiannon turned back toward the gathered armies. "For the Grey Wardens!" she shouted.

The gathered army began to bellow loudly, banging their swords and hammers on their shields in unison, the cacophony of sound drowning out the roaring of the archdemon in the distance. With a wave of his hand, Loghain and Lhiannon turned their horses toward the city and raced toward it, the screaming voices and pounding of metal and feet a frenzied crescendo behind them.

* * *

The armies pushed forward toward the gates of Denerim, battling the horde but taking heavily losses. They were much closer to the archdemon now and Lhiannon could almost make out specific thoughts between the beast and the darkspawn. Its thoughts sent chills down her spine. She knew that the archdemon thought they had the armies outnumbered at the city gates and they were putting up heavy resistance. The armies battled through with swords and shields, arrows and magic; the screams of triumph and agony ringing in her ears. Lhiannon and Morrigan used their offensive magic to try and clear a path for the army. Slowly, they were able to push the darkspawn back and enter the gates of Denerim.

Riordan spotted Lhiannon and ran up to her, relief clearly showing on his bloodied face. His sword and armor were streaked with gore. "You've made it to the gate! We are doing better than I had hoped for." He paused for a moment to catch his breath. Loghain saw where Riordan was talking with Lhiannon and hurried over to join them.

"The army will not last much longer," Riordan began once he caught his breath. "We need to move quickly to get to the archdemon. A smaller group can move faster through the city." He looked at Lhiannon intently. "I suggest taking Loghain and perhaps two others into the city. The rest will remain here and help prevent the darkspawn from entering Denerim behind us."

Lhiannon pointed to where the archdemon circled overhead. "Just how in the bloody hell are we to fight a flying dragon?"

"We need to reach a high point," Riordan explained, turning and pointing to a building in the distance. "I was thinking Fort Drakon."

Loghain nodded in understanding. "You want to draw the archdemon's attention to us."

Riordan nodded back to him. "Yes, we don't have much choice. However, as soon as we engage the archdemon it will call upon all its generals for help."

"Generals?" Lhiannon asked, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Great. How many of _them_ are traipsing about Denerim?"

Riordan paused for a moment, a far away look on his face. He was concentrating on the taint. "I can sense two of them for sure. There are so many darkspawn about that I can't narrow down where they are."

"If we can stop the generals, it will break their ranks and stop the darkspawn from doing more harm in the city," Loghain surmised.

Riordan nodded. "That is true; or it could waste precious resources trying to track them down. The decision is up to you. Now, who will go with you into the city?" Riordan asked.

Lhiannon looked toward her companions; no, that was not true any longer. They were her friends. Her heart ached to have to split the group up and she worried that she may not see them again. Best to focus on the task ahead then. If she did not, grief would overcome her. "Wynne and Morrigan will come with Loghain and me." She turned toward Sten and met his eyes. "Sten, you will lead the others."

Sten nodded gravely to her, "As you wish, kadan." He stepped forward to her and offered his hand. Lhiannon blinked in surprise, but took it. "You would be worthy to stand among my brothers in the Beresaad," he said, his face grave.

Lhiannon started back at him in surprise. "What changed your mind about that?"

"You did."

Lhiannon released his hand and stepped back, nodding thanks as a lump formed in her throat. She turned to her remaining friends and said her good byes with a heavy heart. It was an honor to have known and traveled with them all. She prayed to the Maker that she would see them again when her duty was complete. Zevran, as usual, saw her despair and was able to make her laugh when he expressed his disappointment that the archdemon never writes to him anymore. She gave him a rough hug and kissed his cheek, bidding him to care for Tiberius in her absence, then turned to Loghain and the mages.

"Let's do this."

* * *

They had found the two generals in the city and slew them on their way to Fort Drakon. As they had suspected, once the generals were out of the way, the darkspawn under their command scattered and were no longer a serious threat to their progress. They had just reached the bridge to the palace district when the archdemon appeared and destroyed the structure behind them, as if to mock them and dare them to come for it. There was no turning back now.

Lhiannon and Loghain felt a flicker in the taint and looked to the sky. Riordan had fought his way through the darkspawn and was standing atop a tower, looking toward the looming archdemon. He was daring it to come close. The beast turned in flight and began to head straight for him, roaring a challenge as it closed the distance between them. Riordan started to sprint across the tower toward the archdemon.

"Maker's breath," Lhiannon gasped, stunned. "He's going to jump off the tower!"

When Riordan got to the edge, he leaped off the tower and landed squarely on the archdemon's back. He was furiously stabbing the beast with his sword again and again. The archdemon screamed, swaying and bucking in the air, trying to knock Riordan off its back. It flew toward the tower in an attempt to brush Riordan off; he saw the tower and at the last moment jumped onto the archdemon's wing, stabbing his sword through it and holding on for dear life. The archdemon roared, then flew straight up trying once again to knock Riordan off it. Riordan's weight caused the sword to begin sliding through the wing and the archdemon screamed in pain, its flight becoming erratic. Riordan tried desperately to gain a handhold on the beast, but his sword completely tore through the membranes of the wing. He fell, silently, to the ground. That part of the taint that was distinctly Riordan fell quiet; its silence deafening. The archdemon, wounded and unable to fly, landed on top of Fort Drakon with a resounding thud and a roar of pain and fury.

Lhiannon gasped in shock and horror. Loghain pounded his fist into a nearby wall. "Damn it," he spat angrily. She turned to him, mouth agape and horror on her face. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. With grim resolve, he spoke.

"It is up to us now."

Lhiannon nodded, reaching up to grasp Loghain's forearms. "Then let's finish this," she growled.

They fought their way to Fort Drakon, all four of them heavily wounded and feeling the tickle of healing spells race across their skin. Once inside, they defeated the darkspawn there and paused for several moments before heading out onto the roof. Wynne hurriedly prepared more healing flasks and poultices while Lhiannon cast several healing spells. They would not be completely healed but would be in better shape than they were now.

When it was Loghain's turn for healing, Lhiannon removed her gauntlet and placed her hand on his face and chanted the healing spell, looking into his cool blue eyes. Lhiannon felt the healing magic pass through her hand into Loghain and he sighed gratefully. He studied her intently as she cast, committing her lovely face and dark eyes to memory. His superficial wounds began to close. He covered her small hand with his own rough, yet gentle one. His thumb stroked the back of her hand for all too brief a moment.

"Thank you," he spoke to her softly. Lhiannon nodded and drew her hand away, replacing the gauntlet. She stood up straight and determination flooded through her.

"Now let's send this bastard back to the pit it came from," she snarled.

None of them were prepared for the sight that greeted them when they burst forth onto the roof of Fort Drakon. There were bodies everywhere, the smell of blood and corruption so thick in the air that it was palpable. It was impossible to tell what some bodies were, darkspawn or otherwise. Blood sat in stagnating pools and bloody footprints led away from them in all directions. There was fighting everywhere, darkspawn against human, dwarf, and elf.

Then, there was the archdemon itself.

"Andraste's blood", Lhiannon swore as her wide eyed gaze settled on the beast. The archdemon was so much _bigger_ than she had dreamed. She felt the bile rise in her throat as she realized that the dreams of the archdemon did not do it justice. It was much more terrifying in person. Its purple and black skin seemed to crawl along the archdemon's body like it was itself alive. Its teeth were much longer and more numerous than she ever imagined. The stink of corruption was so strong it made her eyes water and she had to fight the urge to vomit.

The archdemon spotted them, rising up on its hind legs and roaring a challenge to them. When it landed on all fours again, the entire roof shook with the impact. A soldier in heavy armor had raced up to it, plunging his sword into the foreleg of the beast. It turned and picked up the soldier in its mouth, the soldier's screams stopping suddenly as the archdemon bit down hard. Blood poured out of its mouth and with a whip of its head, flung the broken body off the roof of the fort. It turned to regard the Grey Wardens again, daring them to come close.

Lhiannon turned to the mages. "Morrigan, Wynne—take some of the dwarves and get up to those ballistae. Try to use those to battle the archdemon directly when you can. I'm sure Wynne will be doing more healing than fighting, so the ballistae may fall to you Morrigan."

"As you wish," Morrigan nodded. "Be careful, child," Wynne added.

"Loghain and I will be in the thick of the fighting and working our way toward the archdemon. May the Maker protect us. Let's go."

As Morrigan and Wynne ran toward the nearest ballista, Loghain and Lhiannon ran off toward the army of Ferelden, brandishing their swords and joining the melee. " _For Ferelden_!"  came the war cry from Loghain. He crashed into a small group of darkspawn and immediately several of them fell dead as his sword flashed in the air and found purchase in darkspawn flesh. Lhiannon's hands glowed white and blinding snow and ice flew from her outstretched hands, freezing everything in their path.

* * *

Loghain had no intention of letting Lhiannon near the archdemon. He planned on staying as close to it as possible so he could deliver the killing blow. It was not for his pride or glory or redemption that he wanted to be the one to end the archdemon; it was for Lhiannon. He had decided, after completing that so-called "ritual", that he would not let Lhiannon near it if he could prevent it. Following the discussion they had at the reflecting pool in Redcliffe, he was going to make sure she would be safe by delivering the killing blow himself. He did not trust that marsh witch in the least, and certainly not her "old magic". The one thing that stuck in his mind however was that Morrigan had been right. Loghain _had_ allowed Lhiannon to burrow her way into his heart. The thought that Morrigan could be right about anything rankled him, but knew that he would do it over again if he had to—to protect Lhiannon. There was no sense in denying that fact to himself any longer. Nevertheless, he wanted to make sure that he was near the archdemon when it was time for the killing blow. Let him make the sacrifice if that was truly what was required; if Morrigan's "ritual" was just a ruse. Lhiannon was young and had many years ahead of her. He was an old man with much to atone for. He was prepared to hand his beloved Ferelden to her; she would be a good steward.

He had spent much of the march from Redcliffe contemplating his feelings for Lhiannon. At first he scoffed at the idea that he was feeling any sort of serious attraction to her. He realized that it had started when she agreed to accompany him to Ostagar. It must have been difficult for her, but she put aside her reservations and did it anyway. It had begun to grow when he was teaching her how to wield her sword after the battle with Flemeth. They had sat together, cleaning their weapons and armor and talking of Maric. A lifetime ago, it felt like. It was then he realized that he was becoming fond of her. And when she confessed her fears to him after her nightmare, he knew then that his walls were being systematically torn down and he found himself unable, or unwilling, to rebuild them.

In some ways, she had reminded him of Rowan. Lhiannon may not have the swordsmanship that Rowan had, but she was a fierce and determined fighter just the same. _That_ was just like Rowan. Of course, Lhiannon's magical abilities were most definitely _not_ Rowan, and Loghain tried to focus on that. She was a mage and magic was not to be trusted. In the end though, he found his mind drifting toward Lhiannon more often that he was prepared to admit. It annoyed him. It excited him. He was too old to be thinking such things. After all, she was nearly half his age. Why would she be interested in an old man who had far fewer years left that she did?

Yet she was; she had made that clear to him after that Maker forsaken ritual. She cared for him. _He_ was important to _her_. Not important to Ferelden, or to the battle in which he now found himself, but to _her._ After his wife died, he was certain that there would be no other woman in his life. How ironic that it was a mage, a former foe, and a Grey Warden that burrowed her way into his heart. She had done so without him even realizing it, rending all his walls and barriers asunder. But was such a thing wise? Most likely not; however, he still found himself wanting her even as he ran another hurlock through with his sword.

* * *

Lhiannon felt her strength waning and hoped this battle would be over soon. Wynne's healing spells left a constant tickle on her skin. Lhiannon was using all her mana on offensive spells and was counting on Wynne to keep her alive at this point. She hoped Wynne had enough lyrium potions to keep going; she was going to find herself in a lot of trouble if Wynne ran out. Her own mana reserves were shockingly low and she could feel the strain and weakness threatening to overpower her. There were so many darkspawn about that her mana did not have time to fully regenerate and as the battle progressed, she found herself relying more and more on her swordsmanship and less on magic. She was trying to reserve her mana for when she absolutely needed it. Nevertheless, she was no true warrior and the battle was taking its toll.

Lhiannon knew she was seriously wounded but could not let that distract her. She had several arrows sticking out of her elven armor and had felt the tip of one arrow brush the side of her face. She was cut there, as she constantly had to wipe blood out of her eye. She blinked constantly to try and clear the blurred vision in that eye. She had pulled a dagger from her leg, watching with alarm as the blood flowed freely from the wound and down her leg. Her foot was squelching in her boot. She could feel the blood squeeze up between her toes with every step she took. She did not want to think about just how much blood her foot was sitting in.

Lhiannon could feel Loghain alive through the taint but with so many darkspawn about, she could not tell where he was and did not have the time to search visually. She knew that he had been directly hit by at least one spell, the pain traveling through the taint nearly made her fall to her knees. It left her with a biting sting all over her body. She hoped he was all right.

She saw movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see a genlock rushing at her, snarling and gnashing its teeth. Lhiannon had just cast a magic bolt at the charging genlock when she heard the archdemon scream. This was not the roaring she was used to hearing…this was different. She quickly thrust her sword into the gullet of the genlock and raised her foot to push if off the sword, but not before the genlock stuck its dagger under her armor and into her ribs. She could feel the blade slide along one of the ribs before coming to a stop, the hilt against her skin. She screamed in pain and used her foot to kick the darkspawn off her sword. Once it pulled free, she staggered and turned to see where the archdemon was. Now she saw why its scream was so different; it was dying. The archdemon staggered on its feet, multiple wounds from Morrigan's spells scattered on its body and bolts from the ballistae stuck to its hide. It spotted her and took a couple of steps toward her, weakening as she watched. It defiantly roared one more time, then collapsed onto the roof. It tried to get onto its feet, but only the head and part of the neck rose up. _Now_ , she thought.

Her vision narrowed and her senses blocked everything out but her and the archdemon. She yanked the genlock's dagger from her side, screaming again in pain, ignoring the heat and blood that poured forth from the wound. She gripped her sword tightly and sprinted toward the archdemon, a battle cry emerging from her raw and aching throat. And if Loghain screamed at her, she did not hear it.

* * *

Loghain was in the middle of a melee about forty paces from the beast; close enough, he hoped. His armor was so covered in blood and ichor he would not have been able to tell what color it was if he was not so intimately familiar with it. There were new dents in the armor, some so deep they dug into the skin beneath, causing it to break and bleed. He was also heavily wounded. A hurlock had managed to stab its sword under Loghain's arm and the tip entered the sensitive skin under the pit, nearly coming out through his collarbone. It left his arm weak, but not so weak where he could not fight. He had been hit with the pommel of a sword in the side of his face, his borrowed helmet only absorbing part of the blow. He had spat out several broken teeth and then ran the darkspawn through with his sword. A lightning spell from an emissary had caused electrical shocks to travel throughout his armor, leaving Loghain stinging and numb all over. He was pretty sure the spell burned his skin as well; the pain was widespread and constant and it felt like his skin was weeping. The clothing under his armor stuck to his skin and chafed.

He had just dispatched a number of hurlocks in cooperation with several men from the royal army when he heard the archdemon's scream from his left. Loghain whipped his head from side to side, looking for Lhiannon. He did not see her. He hoped it was because the fighting had drawn her off away from the beast. He knew she still lived and could even feel her pain through the taint, but with so many darkspawn about he could not ascertain any more than that.

More darkspawn were headed in his direction, trying to rally themselves around the archdemon. Loghain turned to the soldiers next to him. "Keep them off me!" he roared. "I'm going for the archdemon!" He spun about and raced off without waiting for a reply. He had not taken more than a half dozen steps when he saw Lhiannon racing for the archdemon herself, sword held at the ready and screaming a primal battle cry. He realized then that he would never make it to the beast first. She had been far closer to it than he was after all. He howled her name in anguish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I know Anora gives the pep talk before the battle, but I wanted my Warden to do it instead. I found it hard to believe Anora's army would want her traipsing around the countryside with an army of darkspawn—and, oh yeah, an ARCHDEMON—running amok in Denerim._


	13. Blood and Anguish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oops. As I was converting chapters onto AO3, I somehow skipped this one. *facepalm* This is a pretty important chapter too, so I imagine some of you were scratching your heads on this one. Ugh. My apologies._

Lhiannon could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, so fast it had almost merged with the pounding of her feet as she sprinted toward the archdemon. She could feel a faint fluttering in her chest as the adrenaline burst forth into her veins. She was amazed that she even had any left. Her body had started to weaken, and she was more than a little concerned about the rattling sound coming from her chest, but pushed it aside by sheer willpower alone. She _must_ get to the archdemon. It was her duty—to the Grey Wardens, to Ferelden, to herself. This nightmare for Ferelden will end here and now or she will die trying. If for some reason she failed, she knew in her heart that Loghain would complete the task.

All Loghain could do was watch. Without even realizing it he slowed from a dead sprint, to a jog, to a slow walk, his eyes wide and riveted on Lhiannon. At that moment, she looked both magnificent and terrible as she approached the archdemon. She was brandishing his own silverite sword; the sword he had given her to train with. Her hair had come loose from the string she had tied it back with, and it swirled about her head like a dark corona. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a snarl he had never seen before; not even the snarl she gave him holding her dagger to his throat at the Landsmeet could compare. He saw Morrigan off in the distance, scrambling atop one of the ballistae, her eyes riveted on Lhiannon. Loghain paid her no heed. The sounds of battle had faded from a roaring assault on his senses to a far off drone. Strangely, he could hear the thudding of Lhiannon's boots as she raced toward the archdemon's raised head. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. He heard himself howling her name in anguish and had to lock his knees to keep from sinking to them.

Lhiannon closed the distance between her and the dragon. With her sword held high, Lhiannon pushed it up as hard as she could into the lower jaw of the archdemon. She felt it poke through into the beast's mouth; feeling the beast flinch and trying to pull away, but her forward momentum negated any struggle the weakening beast could manage. The blood was pouring down onto her, hot and stinking of copper and corruption. It ran in rivers down her arms, her back, and her face. She felt the dragon's head sinking toward the ground; she yanked her sword out of the beast and rolled out from beneath it before she could be crushed by its weight. She felt the ground tremble as the head fell to the ground, its eyes rolling, trying to find her.

With tremendous effort, Lhiannon brought herself to her feet and staggered toward the beast once again. She felt the hot blood pouring out of her side and began to see small dark flowers bloom in her vision. Instinctively, she knew her death was coming. With all the strength she could muster, and voicing a scream that encompassed all her emotions—rage, fear, grief, determination, triumph—she buried her sword to the hilt between the archdemon's eyes. There was a flash of bright light and instinctively she closed her eyes, but it did not help. It was as if the light burned through her eyelids, though there was no heat. She basked in the light for a moment, twisting her sword in the archdemon's skull and roaring in triumph before she allowed the darkness to take her. A shockwave suddenly emanated from the beast, throwing her away from it like a rag doll into a pile of rubble. She did not feel herself crumple to the ground as she bounced off the rubble, her leg shattered and held in place only by her armor.

Morrigan also saw the flash of light from her perch on the ballista as the life force of the archdemon was carried away. She felt warmth from her abdomen and rested her hands there in a purely instinctive gesture. The warmth increased until she could feel it spreading throughout her body. She felt a presence settle itself into her womb, then go dormant. It was done; the soul of the old god had come. Her task was complete. She climbed down from the ballista, turning toward a nearby door and silently walked away. She hesitated at the door for a moment, turning back to view Lhiannon's crumpled figure and the carcass of the archdemon behind her.

"Goodbye, my friend," she whispered. "And thank you." Wiping away a single tear, Morrigan was gone.

* * *

Loghain opened his eyes and realized that he was lying on the ground, his sword still clutched in his hand, looking up at a bright column of light in the sky. He did not know how he got there; the last thing he saw was Lhiannon burying his silverite sword in the archdemon's skull, the roar of her voice echoing in his ears. He saw that the light was coming from someplace on the roof, but where? Turning his head and looking about, he realized that the light was coming from the archdemon itself. As the light began to fade, Loghain gingerly picked himself up off the ground and saw Lhiannon crumpled in a heap not far way.

"Oh, Maker's breath, no…"

Loghain dropped his sword and ran to her, pulling off his gauntlets and helmet and tossing them carelessly aside as he dropped to his knees next to her. Lhiannon was on her side facing away from him, her leg bent at an impossible angle. He gently rolled her over onto her back. The first thing he saw was the alarming pool of blood growing beneath her. He pulled his hand away from her side and found it slick with blood. He knew that it was not all darkspawn blood or the archdemon's blood; the pungent smell of corruption was not as strong as the smell of copper. The blood was still warm. It was hers and it was pouring out of her. Panic began to wrap its icy fingers around his heart. Looking around, he saw a soldier walking toward the archdemon, no doubt curious about the beast now that it was dead. Loghain turned his full gaze at the soldier and pointed to him.

"You. Soldier!" The soldier looked at Loghain, pulling his attention away from the dead dragon. "Find the mage Wynne immediately. Or any mage."

"Yes, ser!"

Turning back to Lhiannon, Loghain placed his hand on her neck to feel for a heartbeat. It was there, but very faint and uneven. Her skin had taken on a frightening grayish pallor. Her breaths were shallow and he could hear a faint wheeze coming from her mouth. A feeling of dread began to creep upon him. He put his hand on her cheek and leaned close to her, his lips near her ear.

"Lhiannon. Open your eyes. Look at me." Loghain said calmly and firmly, despite the dread that threatened to overtake him. He tried to wipe the blood off her face as best he could. His mouth felt like he had swallowed fire after the blow to his face. Turning his head, he spat out blood flowing from the open sockets where teeth once were.

There was no response from Lhiannon. He raised his head, whipping it from side to side in desperation. _Where is that damned mage?_

Loghain leaned down toward Lhiannon again, speaking to her more forcefully than before, fighting the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her awake. "Lhiannon, you must open your eyes. _Now_." Nothing happened for a moment, but then with what looked like a great deal of effort, her eyes cracked open slightly. Loghain could just barely see the color of her irises; those dark irises that were so completely different from his icy blue ones.

"Loghain?" Her voice was scarcely a whisper, her eyes unfocused. She ever so slightly turned her head toward the sound of his voice.

"Yes. I'm here." His voice was barely above hers. "I will not leave you." Her eyes started to roll back into her head, causing Loghain's stomach to drop. The icy fingers that had wrapped around his heart started to squeeze more tightly. This was not how it was supposed to be, not her on the ground with her blood pouring out and her life fading away. His voice began to break. "Lhiannon, please. You _must_ stay awake.  Stay with me. _Please._ "

Lhiannon's eyes stopped rolling briefly and finally focused on his. Slowly, she brought her hand up toward Loghain's face. It felt so heavy, like she was lifting the whole of Thedas in that movement. With great effort, two of her fingers brushed along his jaw. A thin smile crossed her face and her hand fell away, landing with a metallic thud on the ground beside her.

"Loghain," she whispered. Then she fell limp and silent.

Loghain's eyes grew wide with terror. Before he could say anything, Wynne's voice was in his ear. "Loghain, please, I need you to move," she said with a quiet determination. Loghain looked up at her and saw the troubled look on her face, but immediately backed away. A second mage, a large man, scurried next to Wynne and they both started placing their hands on Lhiannon, trying to determine the extent of her injuries. A shadow crossed Wynne's face.

"What is it?" Loghain barked. "How badly?"

"Grave," Wynne replied, her eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. Loghain could see the color draining from her face and felt the pit in his stomach growing ever deeper. "I cannot see the extent of her wounds, but they are widespread. We need to remove her armor so I can see them. However, I cannot treat her here. Moving her will be dangerous, but I don't see where we have any other choice. Are there quarters other than the soldiers' barracks nearby? Officers quarters perhaps?"

"Yes," Loghain replied. "The captain's quarters are just down a small hall from the barracks. We can take her there." He moved to pick Lhiannon up, but Wynne stopped him with a hand to his chest plate.

"You yourself are in no condition to carry her. I would not have you drop her on the way inside. This mage will carry her." Her voice and expression told Loghain she would brook no argument.

"Back away, woman," he snarled at her, bending down to gently gather Lhiannon's limp form in his arms. She seemed so small as he held her. Wynne and the other mage began to lead him toward the fort. Lhiannon's eyes fluttered as if she were trying to stay awake and her arm occasionally quivered as if she were trying to raise it. Blood began to trickle from the corner of her mouth, running down her face and dripping onto Loghain's armor. Loghain could not hold back the tears that ran down his face as he watched her struggle to survive.

* * *

Loghain was exhausted. Though it seemed like every muscle in his body ached and every nerve on fire, he had steadfastly refused to leave Lhiannon's side when she was brought to the captain's quarters at the fort. Wynne and the male mage, who he later learned was named Brenhin, had set to work immediately after Loghain had gently settled Lhiannon on the bed. He heard them hastily removing Lhiannon's armor, dropping the pieces haphazardly on the floor. Loghain paced about the room, feeling helpless and oblivious to his own injuries until he realized he was slowly sinking to the floor. Brenhin saw him falling and rushed over to help him to a nearby chair. "Warden, you are hurt and need your injuries tended to."

Loghain glared at him, but allowed the mage to maneuver him into the chair. "I will be fine. I am _not_ leaving." He glared up at the mage, silently daring Brenhin to challenge him. He had just taken on an army of darkspawn; he would happily take on a mage if it meant he could stay close to Lhiannon.

Wynne turned her head toward him as she continued to work on Lhiannon. "Loghain, please. We need to tend to Lhiannon. You do her no good if you over exert yourself or disrupt us. I _need_ Brenhin to help me," Wynne pleaded. Loghain was alarmed at the desperation in the mage's voice; normally, she was the epitome of calmness. "Please, go outside and have your wounds tended to by one of the other mages. I promise you—I will find you as soon as we stabilize her."

Loghain hated to admit it, but Wynne was right. Snorting irritably, he limped out into the hallway and down to the soldiers' barracks, using the walls for support. A young mage was nearby and immediately rushed over to him. "My name is Timon, ser. Allow me to tend to your wounds." Loghain let him.

It was several hours later and neither Wynne nor Brenhin had emerged from where they tended to Lhiannon in the captain's quarters. Loghain was pacing the floor, his concern and irritation growing with each passing minute. He had removed his armor and found clean clothes in the barracks. Bandages and salves covered large parts of his body. Timon had even made Loghain's broken and missing teeth grow back, which was an odd sensation. Timon had been back and forth gathering supplies for the mages tending to Lhiannon. Loghain tried to stop him several times to ask what was happening, but Timon was too busy scurrying too and fro to answer. As time passed, Loghain became more sullen and irritable. _What is taking so bloody long?_ he thought irritably. _She should not be there. I was supposed to protect her!_ At that point he had grabbed a sword off a nearby rack and began to beat it with vicious slashes until finally the rack gave way and collapsed from the assault. Loghain could feel some of his wounds reopening, but he did not care. The sweat from the exertion began to sting in the open wounds on his body, making his temper even shorter. Shaking and sweating, he hurled the sword across the room with a roar and sank down into a nearby chair, propping his elbows on the adjacent table and holding his head in his hands. A short while later, he heard the opposing chair sliding across the floor and heard Wynne settle into it with a heavy sigh.

"She's stable," Wynne simply said, settling her elbow on the table and propping her head up with her arm. She sounded so weary. "I wasn't sure we would be able to heal her. We drained ourselves of mana several times. Thank the Maker that Brenhin and Timon were there."

"What of her injuries?" Loghain asked, his voice thick. He had not bothered to pull his head out of his hands to look at her.

"One of her legs was severely broken; we've reset it but it will pain her for some time. She had several broken ribs. One of her lungs was punctured by a sword or dagger. She has a large, deep cut in the other leg. I think the blade actually went into the bone there. There is a large cut near one of her eyes—she's lucky she didn't lose it. She'll have a scar on her face from that one, but I tried to heal it so it won't be too noticeable. There are scrapes and bruises everywhere. She lost a great deal of blood."

"Is she awake?"

"No," Wynne sighed. "I expect she won't awaken for some time." Wynne paused for a moment before continuing. "We did the very best we could, but her injuries are severe. It is in the Maker's hands now."

"What are you saying?" Loghain growled slowly, bringing his head up and eyeing Wynne suspiciously.

"I'm saying that it's in the Maker's hands, Loghain. If it is His will for her to recover, she will. If not…"

Loghain calmly got up from his chair and marched over to the door beyond which Lhiannon lay. "Loghain, she needs to rest. _You_ need to rest,  " Wynne implored. Loghain ignored her. Regardless of Wynne's pleas, he was going to stay with Lhiannon, either until she woke up or…not.

Wynne knew it was pointless to argue with Loghain when his mind was made up and she did not have the strength or the will to do so. She shook her head and walked to one of the cots, sitting down with a sigh. "Loghain…" she began. He paused at the door, his hand on the latch. "Promise me you will fetch me if her condition changes."

"You have my word," he quietly said over shoulder.

Wynne heard Loghain open the door at the end of the hall, then gently close it behind him. She lay down on the cot, pulling the thin blanket up to her chin and letting the exhaustion take her away. Not even the Fade could pierce her sleep.

* * *

The room was of medium size but had several amenities as befitting a captain's station. A small, yet elaborate fireplace was on one wall and a doorway leading out to a small terrace was on the next wall over. There was a desk and chair for correspondence and another small table and two chairs for taking meals. The bed was large, each corner with a heavy post of carved wood. A small fire burned in the fireplace and only two of the wall sconces were lit, casting shadows everywhere and contributing to the feeling of gloom that hung within. Loghain could feel the remnants of magical energy tickling his skin and could smell the odor of herbs and salves hanging in the air.

Lhiannon lay on the bed, alive but lifeless. They had cleaned her up; her hair was still damp and the blood had been wiped off her face. She had a large bandage over her one eye; a deep cut snaking away from under it toward her temple. A blanket covered her body but Loghain could see various lumps underneath that could only be bandages and poultices. Her one leg appeared to have a cushion under her thigh, slightly elevating it. Her arms lay on top of the blanket at her sides; it appeared they had dressed her in a plain cotton shift with long sleeves. He grabbed a chair from nearby and pulled it up next to the bed. Sitting down, Loghain leaned over, his elbows on the bed. He picked up one of her small hands with one of his and caressed her cheek with the other. She was cool to the touch. Through the taint in him could feel the taint within her, but little else.

Loghain watched the steady rise and fall of her chest for some time, holding her cool hand in both of his. A lump had formed in his throat and he desperately fought against it. He was not much of a praying man, but he was praying now. The only verses he could remember in full were two of his mother's favorites, ones that he had heard often as a child. He lowered his head to Lhiannon's hand and began to recite them.

" _Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._

" _Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written."_

It seemed to be a fitting prayer for what Lhiannon had just accomplished, and he fervently hoped the Maker was listening to him now. "Maker, please bring her back," he continued as he raised his head, gently squeezing Lhiannon's hand and silently urging her to stir. She had awakened something in him that he thought had been dead and it was now, as she lay between life and death, that he realized what it was. At first he thought it was simply lust, the animal attraction between two people thrust together into desperate circumstances. It may have started that way, but as the weeks went by, lust grew into something more. He had felt her need also, especially when they were sparring, but it appeared that she was moving beyond that as well. One woman he loved had already gone to the Maker with so much unsaid; he could not bear the thought of it happening again.

Would it be fair to her though, to lead her down this path? He knew that either death or the Calling would be coming for him long before her. Could he devote himself to her knowing that their years together could be few? The answer, when it came, surprised him.

_ Yes _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _For writing the battle in the last two chapters, I had several songs looping on my computer to keep me in the right frame of mind. In case you're curious, here they are:  
>  -"Broken, Beat, and Scarred" - Metallica (the most fitting lyrics came from this song: "You rise, you fall, you're down then you rise again. What don't kill ya make ya more strong" and "The dawn, the death, the fight to the final breath. What don't kill ya make ya more strong.")  
> \- "You're Going Down" - Sick Puppies  
> \- "Crush 'Em" - Megadeth  
> \- "Hero" - Skillet  
> Yep, I'm a rocker. I was a teenager during the hair band heyday, so rock is in my blood. Am I dating myself? Probably. :P  
> _


	14. The Longest Hours

It was several hours after Wynne and the mages had finished working on Lhiannon that Loghain heard a soft knock on the door. Wynne had returned to check on Lhiannon and asked Loghain if he could see who was there. Loghain already knew who it was; the taint had told him. He quietly went to the door and opened it; to no surprise, it was Alistair on the other side. A scowl crossed the future King's face as he looked up from his feet and into a pair of icy blue eyes.

" _You_ ," Alistair spat, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice nor the blind hatred that colored his face.

Loghain was too weary to offer any sort of rebuttal, much less care, but had not moved from the doorway. That Alistair came did not surprise Loghain, nor did the future King's attitude toward him. Wynne looked up to see Alistair glaring at Loghain in the doorway. She quickly turned and moved toward the door.

"The two of you _will not_ behave like anything less than gentlemen while you are here. The differences between you will have to be put aside. I will have both of you put out of this room, regardless if you are the future King," she glared at Alistair, who turned to her with an astonished look on his face. "Or a Grey Warden," turning her glare to Loghain, who kept his indifferent gaze on Alistair. "Is that in any way unclear?" she finished, arms crossed over her chest and waiting for their answers..

Alistair raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze back to Loghain. Loghain shrugged, his face a mask of indifference. Alistair returned his gaze to Wynne and nodded, which prompted Loghain to move from the doorway. Alistair watched him move with thinly veiled contempt.

"I would, however, like to speak with Loghain in private," Alistair began, not taking his eyes of Loghain. "Wynne, would you please excuse us?"

Wynne's gaze moved back and forth between the warriors. Alistair looked like he was spoiling for a fight, while Loghain stood there with a calm coldness. She was not sure this was a good idea, but Loghain sighed wearily and nodded to her.

"Our conversation will not be long," Loghain said, more to Alistair than to Wynne.

Wynne sighed and reluctantly moved toward the door. "Very well, but I will remind you both that there are several guards just down the hallway. They can be here in an instant if the two of you cannot behave like civilized adults. _I_ will be just outside the door." With that, she left, pulling the door behind her but not completely closing it. She did not completely trust either of them. Maker help them both if they could not act civilized.

Alistair turned from where he stood by the door and looked at Lhiannon; _really_ looked at her for the first time. "Maker's mercy," he breathed, running a hand through his slightly longer hair. He had been told that her injuries were severe but was not prepared for the fragile form he now beheld. Even in all their travels to this point, he had never seen her injured this badly. Lhiannon could always shake them off, laughing lightly as she picked herself up off the ground or bandaged her wounds. Alistair approached the bed and took her hand, holding it gently in his own for several minutes. He said a silent prayer to Andraste and the Maker before lowering her hand gently to the bed. He quickly turned to Loghain, his eyes narrowing.

"So, tell me, just how did you manage to pull this off?" Alistair said, crossing his arms on his chest and glowering at Loghain indignantly.

Loghain shook his head in exasperation. "Pull _what_ off?" He had no patience for this. _Couldn't he just say what he came to say and go?_ Maker's breath, his sanctimonious attitude was incredible.

"I met with Riordan after your Joining, before he left for Redcliffe; he told me what happens when an archdemon dies—the Warden dies. I know it wasn't Riordan that finished the archdemon and it obviously wasn't you. I thank the Maker that she still lives, but I would know _exactly_ what happened."

Loghain was silent for a moment. He wanted to tell Alistair that it was none of his damned business, that it was a Grey Warden matter and since he had all but renounced his status as a Warden to be King, he was not privy to such knowledge. But Loghain also knew that Alistair would be here as soon as word got out that Lhiannon woke up, demanding that she tell him what had happened. It would be best to just get it out of the way now and spare Lhiannon the difficult conversation.

"Morrigan," Loghain said slowly, the disgust evident in his voice.

"Morrigan?" Alistair questioned, confusion coloring his voice. "What does Morrigan have to do with any of this? Where is she by the way? Not that I have any great wish to see her, but I would have thought she would be here being, well, bitchy."

Loghain moved toward the terrace door, not quite sure where to begin. "Morrigan knew destroying the archdemon would require sacrificing a Grey Warden. She said her _mother_ told her that there was a way to destroy the beast without sacrificing anyone; that was the reason why  Morrigan was sent with you and Lhiannon in the first place."

Alistair scoffed. "I knew both Morrigan and her mother were an archdemon short of a Blight. That still doesn't answer my question, Loghain. How did it happen?"

Loghain walked to the slightly open door, closing it quietly so as not to alarm Wynne. He then turned to look directly at Alistair, his face stony. "Let us drop our ranks for a moment and speak plainly. What I tell you _does not_ leave this room. It _does not_ go beyond the Grey Wardens. You _do not_ tell Anora. She will hear it from _me_. If you do not agree to this, you would do well to conclude your visit and leave now. You can hear it from Anora later, should she choose to tell you at all." He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. "Is this agreeable to you? Do I have your word as  Maric's son and future King?"

Alistair looked at Loghain with narrowed eyes. Whatever it was Loghain had to say, it most likely was not good. Alistair's curiosity grew even greater. He could not _wait_ to hear what Loghain had to say. "All right, Loghain," he said slowly, nodding once. "I agree; you have my word. Nothing leaves this room. Nothing goes beyond the Grey Wardens. _You_ tell Anora."

Loghain nodded once, conveying his agreement. "Morrigan told Lhiannon that there was a ritual. Old magic," he sneered.

"And she performed this ritual with Morrigan? As a mage?" Alistair asked, one eyebrow rising and his voice conveying his obvious confusion.

Loghain turned his attention to the fire, staring at it intently. Alistair thought he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "No."

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to hold back his exasperation. Loghain glanced toward him and wondered if Alistair knew how very much he looked like Maric just now. "Loghain, out with it already. _What happened?_ " _Can't the man just get to the point?_ Alistair thought in exasperation. Trying to drag more than two sentences out of Loghain was infuriating to no end.

Loghain took a deep breath and sighed. Alistair saw a look of complete disgust cross his face, as if he had stumbled upon a dead skunk rotting in the hot summer sun for several weeks. "The ritual required that Morrigan be made with child."

Alistair looked confused and he quickly shook his head. "Wh-what? Back _that_ cart up. Made with child? You don't mean…" He looked at Loghain and saw the man was more than distinctly uncomfortable. Loghain looked mortified, something Alistair never thought possible from the man. Alistair turned away and sat down at the small table, his back toward Loghain and his head in his hands. Loghain watched as Alistair's shoulders began to shake and he thought he heard a couple of small noises. Loghain watched for another moment before walking around the table to face Alistair, not completely sure what the man was doing. When he saw Alistair's face, he saw why the man's shoulders were shaking; Alistair was laughing.

"Oh, y-you _slept_ with  Morrigan? _That_ was the ritual? Oh Maker…!" Alistair could barely get the words out, so great was his snickering.

"Are you quite finished?" Loghain growled through gritted teeth, his fists in knots at his side. He felt the red anger beginning to rise within him. Even worse was the sense of indignity that rose with it. Loghain was not sure which was worse; the marsh witch's smug attitude at the ritual or Alistair's obvious enjoyment of his discomfort.

Alistair was still beside himself with laughter. "Oh, perhaps there _is_ justice in the world. Sleeping with  Morrigan _must_ be a punishment for something! Better you than me! I'm surprised she didn't turn on you like a great spider and devour you after mating!" After a few more moments of giggling, snorting, and wiping away the tears that flowed down his face, Alistair finally composed himself. His stomach hurt terribly but it was worth it. Loghain scowled as he walked back toward the terrace door, fists clenched so hard that his nails left deep marks in the skin. What he would not give to be able to ram his fist into Alistair's face right now. The charges of treason might very well be worth it.

Alistair, now more or less composed, looked at Loghain. He took a great deal of pleasure in seeing the man looking so uncomfortable. "So why did you have to do this? What was the importance of getting Morrigan with child…?" Alistair nearly started snickering again, but quickly gained control of himself. "And what does that have to do with the archdemon?"

Loghain took a deep breath to try and calm the rage in his blood. "The witch said that when the archdemon died, the taint would be drawn to the child and purged. The child would be left with the soul of an old god, perfect and free of the taint."

A look of disbelief crossed Alistair's face. "Maker's blood! But why would she do that? Why would she _want_ that?" His brows furrowed in concern, a look of revulsion crossing his features. "Was this blood magic?"

Loghain shrugged. "She said she would raise _it_ as she saw fit and that we would never see her again. She was not forthcoming with details."

Alistair rose from the chair and walked closer to the bed. He brushed Lhiannon's cheek with the back of his hand. She was so pale and cold. Tearing his gaze away, he leveled it at Loghain. "Why then did you agree to perform the ritual? The _real_ reason."

For a moment, Loghain did not say anything. Alistair was about to repeat himself when Loghain turned to look at Lhiannon and finally spoke, his voice so low that Alistair had to strain to hear it.

"Ferelden _needs_ her."

Alistair leveled his gaze at Loghain, his eyes narrowing. He could sense that there was something Loghain was not telling him. He may very well have performed that ritual because Ferelden "needed her," but Alistair _knew_ there was more to it than that. He would bet his life on it. Loghain was still gazing at Lhiannon; Alistair realized that his look was one of genuine concern, and maybe something more. Alistair's eyes widened as the pieces started to fall into place.

_ Loghain _ was the one that was with her when the archdemon fell. _Loghain_ was the one who had refused to leave her side after she was brought here. And the  look on his face…why else would he have performed that seemingly barbaric ritual?

"You care for her, don't you? After all that has happened?" Alistair asked guardedly.

Loghain whipped his head around to look at Alistair, his face set in stone. "She is my sister in the Grey Wardens," he snapped at Alistair. What exactly Loghain felt, or did not feel, for Lhiannon was none of Alistair's damn bloody business, future King or not.

"You _do_ care for her," Alistair said slowly. It was not a question. He turned to leave, pondering this new revelation. How _dare_ Loghain care for Lhiannon, after all he had done? Loghain was not fit to scrape the horse dung off Lhiannon's boots. When Alistair reached the door, he paused. When he spoke, his voice was low and ominous.

"If you hurt her, I swear by Andraste and the Maker, I will kill you myself."

* * *

Loghain had just left Lhiannon's room not long after Alistair's visit to stretch his legs when Anora came bustling around the corner, several bodyguards close behind. She threw herself in Loghain's arms, a small laugh of joy escaping her lips. Loghain glared at the bodyguards and waved them off; they hurriedly turned and left the barracks, closing the door at the end of the hall behind them. Loghain held Anora in his arms for several long minutes, placing a kiss on the top of her head and smoothing her hair as only a father could.

"I'm so glad you're all right," Anora began, pulling away from Loghain and looking up into his face. "I had feared the worst when the reports of a Grey Warden's death arrived at the castle."

"Riordan," Loghain said, eyes going far away for a moment. "We need to find his body. Give him a proper funeral. It was he who injured the archdemon so it couldn't fly."

"Consider it done," Anora said, moving off toward the door and giving the orders to the bodyguards outside. She came back to Loghain's side when she finished. "How is Lhiannon? Alistair said she was the one…"

Loghain nodded and indicated the door just behind them. "She's stable, but badly injured." He paused as he fought the lump that suddenly rose in his throat. "She was magnificent, Anora."

"I would like to see her," Anora stated, taking Loghain's hand and clutching it tightly. He led her to the door and opened it. Anora released Loghain's hand as she entered, moving over to the bed and looking down at Lhiannon's unconscious form upon it. She looked down at Lhiannon for several minutes, her face concerned. Loghain watched as Anora reached down and placed her hand on Lhiannon's.

"Thank you, Warden," Anora whispered, barely audible even in the silence of the room. Loghain stood at the end of the bed, watching the rise and fall of Lhiannon's chest once again. Anora took her hand from Lhiannon's and moved to her father's side.

"What is her prognosis?" Anora asked, turning to look up at her father's haggard face. Loghain quietly scoffed; that was his Anora—directly to the point, as always.

"The mages say it is in the Maker's hands," Loghain said, turning to look down at Anora, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He quietly scoffed and a corner of his mouth turned up in a small grin. "Lhiannon is a stubborn, determined woman. I learned quickly to expect the unexpected from her."

"Ferelden owes her a great debt," Anora said simply, turning to look up at Loghain. "I will grant whatever boon she wishes. She deserves no less."

"The Grey Wardens will need to rebuild their numbers; that will be a great concern to her," Loghain said, guiding Anora toward the small dining table in the room and sitting down, resting his elbows and forearms on top. Anora joined him on the opposite chair, crossing her legs and resting her hands on the raised knee.

"Perhaps I should give Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens," Anora began, nodding slowly. "They can use the fortress at Vigil's Keep as their base of operations." Anora turned to look at Loghain. "As _your_ base of operations."

Loghain shook his head. "Lhiannon is the senior Warden in Ferelden now; it will be _her_ that leads us, not me. I will not usurp her position," Loghain said firmly, holding up a finger for emphasis. Though Alistair had been a Grey Warden several months longer than Lhiannon, it was she that truly led them and Loghain knew it. Loghain suddenly chuckled at his statement; the irony of it was not lost on him. He grinned and winked at Anora. "We both know _that_ never works."

Anora returned his grin and nodded, "Just so. Lhiannon will be Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden." Anora paused, her face becoming thoughtful. "As such, I believe I will name her Arlessa of Amaranthine. The Grey Wardens can use the resources of the arling to help them rebuild."

"Do you think it wise to directly involve the Grey Wardens in Ferleden's politics?" Loghain asked warily. From what little he knew of the Grey Wardens, Loghain knew they frowned upon being directly involved in such matters outside the distant Anderfels, not that it stopped them before. Getting overly involved in politics was what had them exiled from Ferelden in the first place.

Loghain paused in his train of thought; perhaps this was an opportunity. The leadership of the Grey Wardens in Thedas was at the far off Weisshaupt Fortress. With Ferelden having just suffered a Blight, and undoubtedly still needing to deal with the remnants of the horde, decisions would need to be made quickly. Having orders and information relayed to and from Weisshaupt would take weeks; Ferelden's Grey Wardens did not have that kind of time to wait before acting. They needed to act and govern themselves independently; perhaps Anora's decision would be the first step in that process.

"The Grey Wardens are already involved in Ferelden's politics, Father. Alistair is to be King; _he_ is a Grey Warden."

"Speaking of your…betrothed…how are you and he getting along?" Loghain asked, concerned for Anora. When last he saw them, Anora and Alistair made no secret of their mutual distrust and dislike of each other. Loghain knew that Anora was a shrewd woman however; she would find a way to work with Maric's bastard.

Anora scoffed, a small grin lighting her face. "We are finding a small amount of common ground, Father. It has not been easy. He is a challenge."

Loghain grinned at her. "I have never known you to pass up a good challenge, Anora."

Anora giggled again before looking at Loghain, arching one of her eyebrows at her father. "And speaking of challenges, you and Lhiannon seem to be working well together now."

Loghain scoffed, turning his head to look at Lhiannon's unconscious form. "We have come to an…understanding…since my Joining." Loghain paused, not wanting to delve too deeply into what he felt for Lhiannon with Anora just yet. He also did not want to broach the subject of Morrigan, but knew he had to. He did not want Anora to have to hear the story from that fool Alistair. Anora deserved to hear it from his own lips.

"Anora," he began, turning back to look at her. "There is something you must know about the battle. We will speak of it now and I would ask that we never speak of it again. It must not be discussed with anyone, especially anyone who isn't a Grey Warden."

Anora's eyes narrowed in suspicion, her defenses beginning to rise. She sat up straight at the table, elbows resting on the top and hands clasped together. "What do you wish to discuss?"

Loghain told Anora of the conversation with Riordan in Redcliffe and the ritual with Morrigan. He did not go into all the details of the ritual; for that Anora was grateful. What she had heard was enough to turn her stomach sour however. "Lhiannon _made_ you do this?" Anora asked angrily, throwing a nasty glance in Lhiannon's direction.

Loghain held up a hand to stop her. " _No_ , Anora, she did not. I did it of my own volition. Lhiannon could not bring herself to give that order," Loghain explained, hoping Anora would not hold this Maker forsaken ritual against Lhiannon; that was not what he had intended.

"But _why,_ Father? Why would you do such a thing? I do not like that you were maneuvered into such a position."

Loghain sighed, nodding his head. "We were both maneuvered there by a marsh witch with her own agenda. But, it did work. We survived. Now we can go about rebuilding the Grey Wardens."

"But how could you allow yourself to be manipulated in such a way?" Anora asked indignantly. "You are a pragmatic man; this is not like you." She narrowed her eyes at Loghain, looking at him suspiciously. Her voice grew hard. "Just what sort of 'understanding' did you and Warden Lhiannon come to?"

Loghain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Anora, it is not…"

"You _will_ tell me," Anora interrupted, her voice telling Loghain that she would permit no argument from him.

Loghain sighed, turning to look at Anora. He could just barely admit to himself what he felt for Lhiannon. He was not ready to admit such a thing to his daughter, the Queen, just yet. "Anora, she is my sister in the Grey Wardens. The understanding was to put the best interests of Ferelden and the Wardens first. That understanding has allowed us to move beyond the past and become friends." _I can admit that much to Anora, at least._

Anora sat at the table, watching Loghain warily. She sensed that there was more to her father's feelings for Lhiannon, but Anora knew well enough that if he were not ready to discuss such a matter, he would not do so. It would be best to table this discussion for later. And they _would_ have it later, she assured herself. She nodded to Loghain.

"Then I am glad to hear it," she said, holding her hand across the table to Loghain. He took it, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "You are the most important thing to me, Father, and I only wish to see you well."

Anora visited with him for a short while longer, before taking her leave to return to the palace. The repairs there were moving along nicely but she wanted to keep a close eye on the progress. Loghain watched her go; despite the difficult conversation they had, she had done wonders to help his melancholy mood.

* * *

Loghain was finally alone in the room with Lhiannon again. Wynne and Brenhin had just left after checking on Lhiannon for what seemed like the thousandth time and changing her soiled bandages. Wynne had admonished Loghain for not taking care of himself over the last few days. Loghain scowled and waved the mage off with barely a word; there were more important things to worry about just now. Lhiannon had still not stirred and the dread grew within Loghain's heart with each passing day.

It had grown dark outside. As was his ritual now, Loghain lit the wall sconces and fed the fire in the fireplace before lighting a desk lantern and settling in a chair across from the bed. Lhiannon had been laying in that bed for several days now, all her companions coming at various times to visit her. Loghain had been annoyed with the constant comings and goings, but kept silent. If he had had his way, they would have all been thrown out on their ears after a few minutes of visiting. This vigil was _his_ duty and he would not shirk it.

Loghain was holding a book detailing the history of Ferelden and the line of Calenhad. He had not made it far into the book, finding the he was constantly reading the same paragraphs over and over again as he kept his vigil. However, staring into the book was better than just staring at the four walls. It was not long before he began to doze in the chair, the book falling against his stomach from his slackened hands and the lantern flickering on the table next to him. Had he not been so completely exhausted, he would have felt the slight tickle that brushed his mind through the taint.


	15. My Light in the Darkness

There were voices; at times they were faint and far away. Other times they sounded like they were under water. But the worst part of it all was when there were no voices, just complete and utter blackness with excruciating pain as the only companion. She wanted to scream, tried to scream, but her body refused to respond. She was trapped somewhere between life and death, the real world and the Fade, swimming in a deep black ocean and not knowing which way led to the surface.

A light appeared in the pitch blackness, faint and tiny as if it were miles away. It was not the Fade; of that she was completely certain. It felt _real._ With all the strength she could muster, she moved toward it. As it slowly grew, it became her anchor, something to drive herself toward. As the size of the light grew, its intensity grew as well, enveloping her in gentle warmth. She could hear voices coming through the light as she drew closer. The words were indecipherable, but the familiarity of the tones pulled her forward like a magnet and she passed through it to see what lay on the other side.

Eventually, the light faded and Lhiannon became aware. She had been aware of the pain in her body, but now where there was no pain, the itch was maddening. She could hear small noises. The whisper of her breath as she drew it through her nose. The small popping sounds of logs in a fire. The slight rattle of glass in a window as the wind blew across it. She felt the warm weight of blankets on her and the softness of down filled pillows under her head. She lay on soft bedding.

Her eyes felt like heavy weights were pulling the lids together, but Lhiannon finally managed to get her undamaged eye half open and look about the room. Her eye felt sticky and gritty. It was dark in the room— _what time is it? Is it nighttime_? She could not be sure, as her eye refused to focus on anything for more than an instant. It seemed like only a single lantern or candle was lit. After a few moments her eye adjusted to the small amount of light.

She saw Loghain slouched in a chair across the room, his head lolled forward so his chin rested on his chest. His breathing was deep and even; sleeping then. She saw that he had a book open and resting on his stomach. She started to lightly chuckle but the pain in her chest stopped it cold; she never knew Loghain was a reader.

"Loghain?" she rasped, hoping he would hear her. A hoarse whisper was all she could manage through her raw and aching throat at the moment.

Loghain was not aware he had been sleeping until he heard what he thought was a voice from a dream calling his name; the voice sounded low and sweet. Bleary eyed, he raised his head from his chest and looked toward Lhiannon. He gave a start when he saw her eye open, alert, and looking into his own. He felt his heart leap as the cold fingers of dread began to fall away; he said a quick thank you to the Maker as he rose. Walking over to the chair next to the bed, he gave her a warm smile and sat down. Lhiannon thought his smile made him look so much younger and she felt her heart fluttering in her chest.

"Welcome back," Loghain said, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the edge of the bed.

"Loghain, it _is_ you," Lhiannon said, her voice raspy and barely above a whisper. Her eye darted around the room, not recognizing it. Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Where are we?"

"We are in the captain's quarters at Fort Drakon."

"What's wrong with my eye? I can't see anything." Lhiannon lifted her hand and felt the bandage there. It was sensitive and pained her to touch. She winced. Loghain gently pulled her hand away from the bandage and set it on the bed. "Your eye was injured but will heal. Wynne said you were lucky you didn't lose it."

"How long have I been here?"

"It has been six days since you killed the archdemon."

Lhiannon's eye widened and looked troubled. "I've been unconscious for _six days_?"

Loghain chuckled. "Yes, the archdemon did its worst to take you down, but you had other plans for it." He paused. "How are you feeling?"

Lhiannon winced. It felt like every nerve in her body was making its presence known; every muscle too. "I'm alive. That's something, right?"

"Indeed it is."

"I think I can feel each nerve in my body; they're all screaming," Lhiannon said, grimacing and chuckling at the same time. She stopped and gave Loghain an intense look. "We really did it, didn't we? We ended the Blight."

Loghain pointed at her. " _You_ did it. I watched you drive your sword into the  archdemon's skull. It was both beautiful and terrible."

Lhiannon shook her head slowly, the movement causing the room to spin slightly. "I didn't do it alone. I had you there."

Loghain snorted, but not unkindly. "Do you remember anything of the battle?"

Lhiannon was quiet for a moment, thinking. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She remembered Riordan falling. Bursting out onto the roof of Fort Drakon. The knife in her side. The feel of her blade as it entered the archdemon's head. The bright light. Loghain. "I think remember most of it." She smiled. "The last thing I do remember with certainty is you."

Loghain raised an eyebrow and looked at her questioningly. "Me?"

"Yes. I could feel myself fading. I kept seeing black spots in my vision and felt the pull of the Fade, stronger than I had ever felt it before. I was preparing to go to the Maker…" She hesitated, turning her head away from Loghain, her voice catching in her throat and tears burning in her eyes. She took a hitching breath, which made her wince in pain, but she continued, her voice barely a whisper. "I was at peace because the last thing I saw, the last image I would take with me from this world, was you."

Loghain was taken aback. He stared at her, speechless, and when she turned her head back toward him, a tear had fallen from her open eye.

"I'm so very happy that I came back though… _to find you_ ," she said, her voice cracking at the end. She raised her hand and brushed it against Loghain's cheek, feeling the stubble there. He took her hand in both of his, looking into her open eye. He felt her hand curl around his own. The warmth was coming back into her skin at long last; just the very tips of her fingers were still cool. He sat there, gently holding her hand in his for some time before he sighed and spoke. "Wynne made me promise that I would fetch her as soon as there was a change in your condition." He paused and smiled. "But I don't want to fetch her just yet."

Lhiannon smiled back at him. "No. Please, stay with me for a while. I would rather not be alone right now."

"For as long as you'd like, though Wynne will not be pleased." Loghain paused, raising his brows in amusement. "That woman is nearly as frightening as any high dragon."

Lhiannon chuckled. "She likely won't be pleased, but she'll get over it."

Loghain paused for a moment, seeming to gather himself, then gently placed a hand on her cheek. He cradled it tenderly and Lhiannon closed her eye for a moment, savoring the feel of his hand, rough and calloused, yet gentle at the same time. She turned her head into his hand. When she opened her eye again, Loghain was looking into it with a serene expression; it was a look she had never seen before now. She could feel his eyes boring into her and her heart began to flutter madly within her chest. She smiled at him and watched as he returned it.

"Help me sit up, Loghain."

"Of course," he said, moving closer and gently helping her into position, propping pillows behind her. She hissed in pain and grimaced as she moved. Her head spun from the movement and Loghain gently held her to make sure she would not swoon and fall over.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern in his voice as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Lhiannon nodded, breathing carefully as she reclined on the pillows behind her. "I'll be fine. I just need a moment." After she waited for the room to stop spinning, she looked at Loghain, trying to see the extent of his injuries.

"How are _you_ feeling? Did the darkspawn injure you badly?" Lhiannon asked him. Loghain found himself chuckling inside; of course she would be more concerned with him than herself.

Loghain shook his head. "I was burned by a spell, but I am healing well. My arm is a bit weak from a stab wound but it should be fine in time. The worst part was having several teeth knocked out." He paused and grimaced. "Mage Timon's spell helped them to grow back. It was strange."

Lhiannon chuckled lightly, the pain keeping her from chuckling long. "I'm sure it was." She looked down at her lap, deep in thought. It was several moments before she spoke again. "I am glad that the Maker's sense of humor brought us together, Loghain. I could not have done this without your help."

"As am I," he said, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

She turned to look at him with her uncovered eye; it narrowed as she took him in. He looked haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes and they looked slightly sunken. His cheekbones were a little more prominent under the stubble on his skin, showing that he had lost some weight. She took her hand from his and brushed a lock of hair away from his face. Clearly, he had not eaten much in these last six days, nor taken much time to clean and shave. Even the braids were missing from his hair.

"You look like hell," she told him, a slight grin turning up a corner of her mouth. "Will your armor even fit you anymore? You can use mine if yours is too big."

Loghain scoffed and chuckled. "Now I know you'll recover."

"What makes you say that?"

He smiled at her. "Your sarcasm has returned."

She chuckled lightly, ignoring the pain that it caused. After a moment, she lowered her head, staring down at the blankets covering her legs. "Thank you," she said solemnly.

Loghain's brown furrowed in confusion. "What for?"

"You helped to save me after the battle. I am in your debt."

"You would have done the same for me," he assured her, taking her hand once again. "No thanks are necessary."

* * *

Word had quickly spread through Denerim that the newly dubbed Hero of Ferelden was recovering. There were spontaneous celebrations in the city and Lhiannon could hear them from her room at Fort Drakon. She had spent another couple of days recovering at the fort, becoming restless from being bedridden for so long. Loghain was rarely away from her side for very long. She had finally insisted that he get some rest himself, but instead of going back to his rooms at the palace, he commandeered another officer's quarters just down the hall.

Now that she was up and cautiously moving about, Anora had insisted that Lhiannon move from the fort to a guest suite at the palace to continue her recovery. Loghain had gone to the palace ahead of her to speak with Anora and have Lhiannon's rooms prepared.

Lhiannon's suite in the guest wing of the palace was spacious and elegant. One of the palace servants, thrilled to pieces to be assigned to the Hero of Ferelden, had gushed to her about the room, showing her everything inside. The main room was furnished with elegant overstuffed chairs, a lounge, and rich wooden tables, each item costing a small fortune. The walls were covered in brightly colored tapestries and the ceiling crossed with heavy wooden beams. A large, elaborate desk with a high chair sat near a corner of the room. There were plenty of sconces in the walls to light the room brightly at night. There was a set of double doors that opened out over the palace courtyard. She could see the main square of Denerim as well.

The bedroom had the largest bed she had ever seen. It was raised so high off the floor that she needed a step to get into it. Each corner had an elegantly carved wooden post and silken netting drifted down from the ceiling to enclose the bed. A large washing tub of stone was in the corner near the window, so one could look outside while having a bath. There were ornate dressers and vanities in the room. It was luxurious.

Wynne had again visited her to check on her injuries once she was settled at the palace. Lhiannon was healing nicely but it would still be several days before she felt like her old self again. She also had a slight limp from the broken leg; Wynne told her it would pain her for a while yet, especially when it rained. Wynne brought her a walking stick, telling Lhiannon that she should use it for the next few days while the bones continued to heal. The bandage from Lhiannon's eye had also been removed, the light hitting it immediately caused it to ache and water profusely. Wynne gently closed it with a finger and whispered a spell; the eye felt better instantly.

"Child, you have used more of my mana that I care to count these last few days," she gently teased Lhiannon. "Take care of yourself for awhile." Lhiannon gave the mage a long hug before nodding her thanks and watched as Wynne gracefully glided out the door.

Lhiannon walked over to the double doors and opened them to allow the fresh air and afternoon sun into her suite. She was still feeling a little weak and shaky but grateful to be on her feet nonetheless. She walked out onto the balcony and stood there, leaning onto the edge and looking below. She watched as palace servants and freedmen worked in the courtyard, repairing damage to the palace walls and cleaning up debris. Looking out into the city, she saw the citizens also cleaning up the debris and scrubbing soot from buildings. From beyond the city walls, dark smoke rose into the sky. _That must be where they are burning the bodies_. Lhiannon shivered. There had been so many bodies…

A knock on her chamber doors brought Lhiannon's attention back to the present. Using her walking stick, she cautiously made her way to the door. Upon opening it, she saw Loghain on the other side, dressed in his repaired and gleaming silverite armor. Behind him was a palace servant, a cloth bundle in her hands. Lhiannon hobbled aside and motioned for Loghain and the servant to enter.

"Loghain," she said warily, watching the servant as she went toward the bedchamber. "What is this?"

Loghain's face was caught somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "Anora has _requested_ an audience with us as soon as you are able.  Which means now."

Lhiannon chuckled. "She's not wasting any time, is she?"

Loghain also chuckled. "She's a politician. Very direct when she wants something."

"My lady," the servant called out, bowing to Lhiannon respectfully. "I have brought you fresh clothing to wear to your audience with the Queen."

Lhiannon turned to look at Loghain, an eyebrow raised at him. He stepped just outside her chamber doors. "I'll be waiting for you here. I suggest you hurry; Anora can be impatient."

* * *

Not long after, Lhiannon and the servant exited the door from Lhiannon's suite. Loghain was waiting on a bench outside, as promised. He looked Lhiannon up and down appreciatively as she closed the door behind her. The servant had brought Lhiannon a simple long dress of deep scarlet. Her hair was unbound and hung down past her shoulders, straight as an arrow. Lhiannon gave Loghain a shy smile as she turned toward him, her walking stick in hand. He motioned for her to go and he walked beside her to the throne room, slowing his pace for her and offering his arm for support when she needed it.

Anora sat on the throne to receive them; Alistair was seated on another chair to the side of the dais. As he was not King yet, he would not be sitting on what was to be his throne. Lhiannon noticed his face looked hard as he watched Loghain walk beside her toward the dais. Standing off to the side were several guards and the palace chamberlain. Loghain and Lhiannon both bowed to the Queen, who rose from the throne to greet both of them.

"Father. Lhiannon. I'm glad you were able to come so quickly," she smiled to both of them, coming down the steps to speak to them. Lhiannon was not sure if the smile the Queen gave to her was genuine or practiced.

"You asked to see us?" Loghain began.

"Yes, I have a bit of business to conduct that cannot wait." She lowered her voice so that only Loghain and Lhiannon can hear. "This is business I need to do before the coronation, you understand," making a small gesture toward Alistair. _Cheeky_ , Lhiannon thought to herself. Anora was going to do something now before Alistair could be officially crowned as King; Lhiannon surmised that after the coronation, Anora could have fights on her hands with Alistair over anything and everything.

Anora turned toward Lhiannon. "However, before I begin, I wanted to thank you for what you and the Grey Wardens have done. You have saved Ferelden from being overtaken by the Blight, and it is a debt we can never adequately repay. If there is a boon I can grant—anything at all—you need only name it."

Lhiannon bowed her head, not sure of what else she should do. "Your Majesty, I'm not concerned about a boon right now. I only wish to serve Ferelden and the Grey Wardens; however, my main concern is building our numbers again. The Grey Wardens are still too few. There is the remainder of the horde to think about and that will be my focus as soon as I am over my injuries."

Anora nodded to Lhiannon, then turned and indicated to Alistair and the others on the dais that they should step forward. "Let it be recorded that I, Anora Theirin, Queen of Ferelden, officially recognize Alistair Theirin as the crown prince of Ferelden. An official wedding and coronation will take place one month from today.

"Let it also be recorded that the Arling of Amaranthine will be given to the Grey Wardens so that they may rebuild their numbers. With that, Lhiannon Amell will be Arlessa of Amaranthine and Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Finally, let it be recorded that I pronounce Loghain Mac Tir Teyrn of Gwaren once again, effective immediately."

Loghain gave Anora a puzzled, somewhat irritated look. He beckoned her closer so he could speak to her without everyone present overhearing. "Teyrn, Anora? Are you sure about this? I have new duties with the Grey Wardens that could keep me away from Gwaren for some time."

Anora's eyes narrowed at her father. "I seem to remember while growing up in Gwaren that you were away for many months at a time. You gave orders through correspondence that Mother and the seneschal followed, so you are well practiced at this. Besides, I have enough to deal with at the moment."

"What do you mean?" Lhiannon asked quietly.

"I have the upcoming wedding and coronation to manage. There is also the issue of preparing Alistair to rule; he's told me more than once that he will not sit idly by while I rule alone, so I must find some sort of compromise we can both live with." Anora turned her attention to Loghain. "I also must focus on rebuilding Denerim and the parts of Ferelden that were ravaged by the Blight. I don't need a gaggle of squabbling nobles fighting over such an important piece of the Ferelden nobility."

"Anora…" Loghain began, his voice imploring her to listen.

The Queen held up a hand to silence her father. "I entrust _you_ with this duty. I know you can do this. It would ease my mind greatly to know that you _will_ do this."

"Perhaps it is time for new blood in Gwaren, Anora," Loghain suggested.

Anora scoffed angrily at Loghain, her eyes shining with a bright fury. "And who would _you_ suggest? Arl Eamon? You know that if I don't quickly appoint a Teyrn the nobles will want to call another Landsmeet and they would immediately put him forward as the most likely candidate. I would rather throw myself on your sword than to see that bastard Teyrn of Gwaren. I shall give him no such honor after what he tried to do with Cailan. He can languish in Redcliffe until the next Blight comes."

"What about Bann Teagan?" Loghain suggested. "The other nobles would not object to a Guerein becoming Teyrn and Teagan would do well there."

" _No._ " Anora stated firmly, raising her voice so that all could hear. "I have made my decision." She pointed directly at Loghain, her voice and face both set in stone. " _You_ are the Teyrn of Gwaren. _That is final._ "

Anora took a step back and looked at both Loghain and Lhiannon, her face softening somewhat. "You will both take private oaths now, but I will also have you take them publicly at court." Within moments, the oaths were done and Lhiannon found herself with a noble title and house, not to mention a horde of butterflies settling into her stomach. What does a mage know of nobility? She may not have cared about Ferelden politics before, but here she was, right in the middle of it. Loghain saw the look of dread on her face and laughed to himself. He imagined he looked just like that when Maric elevated him to Teyrn of Gwaren after Meghren was defeated.

* * *

Lhiannon was lighting the wall sconces in her chambers later that evening when she heard a knock on the door. She debated not opening the door as the taint told her who was out there. However, if she could sense her guest, her guest could also sense her. With a feeling of dread and sadness, Lhiannon limped to the door and opened it. Alistair stood on the other side, his face impassive.

"May I come in?" he asked tonelessly. Lhiannon moved aside and motioned him in.

"Alistair," she said cautiously. "How are you?"

He sighed and offered her a wan smile. "I suppose I'm ready to face my destiny. You know, be the King, rule Ferelden, live happily ever after with my blushing bride…" his voice trailed off. Lhiannon looked uncomfortably at the floor, not sure what to say, so saying nothing.

"Hey," Alistair said softly, coming forward and lifting her chin so he could look into her eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." He ran his hands nervously through his hair. Lhiannon noticed that he was growing it longer; it suited him. "I haven't seen you much since, well, you know, and…" His voice trailed off. He was clearly extremely anxious about something. Lhiannon paused and waited for him to go on. After a moment he took a deep breath and continued.

"What about Loghain?" he finally asked her, turning to pace about the room and still looking uncomfortable.

"What of him?" Lhiannon looked at Alistair warily.

"You know, he rarely left your side. At Fort Drakon."

"That's what I understand."

Alistair paused before continuing. "I know about the ritual."

"I see," Lhiannon said quietly.

Alistair sighed, holding his hands out to her. "How, Lhiannon? How can you call him brother? How can you call him _friend?_ Are you mad?"

She glared at Alistair, feeling both bewildered and annoyed with him. "Alistair, if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here. I couldn't have killed the archdemon without his help. He is becoming a fine Grey Warden and a good friend." She paused briefly before shaking her head and scoffing lightly. "I know that sounds bizarre, given our past history. But…the Maker does indeed have a strange sense of humor, Alistair. He does what He wants."

Alistair shook his head at her, turning toward one of the vanities and running his fingers across the top. "I certainly hope you know what you're doing," he said quietly.

Lhiannon looked down at the floor, unsure of what to say or do. Alistair finally turned back toward her and ran his hands through his hair one more time. This whole conversation was exasperating.

"What I really came here to say is thank you," he said, his voice growing soft. "You've done extraordinarily well. I may not have agreed with everything that's happened, but I know you did it with Ferelden's best interests at heart. Were it not for you, there would be no kingdom."

Lhiannon limped to a nearby table, avoiding Alistair's look. She placed her hands on the table, as if steadying herself. After a pause, she finally spoke in a small voice. "Alistair, can we ever be friends again? I know you must hate me for what's happened. For what I've done…"

Alistair rushed forward and took her hands in his own and held them firmly. His gaze was both hard and compassionate. "I was very angry with you, but I _never_ stopped being your friend, Lhiannon. _Ever_ ," he said with absolute conviction.

Lhiannon gently pulled her hands from his and brought them up to her face, the sheer relief that washed over her causing tears to fall from her eyes, unbidden. She had reconciled herself to the fact that those words would never be used between them again and hearing them now simply overwhelmed her. Alistair looked at her a bit awkwardly at first; he had not realized just how much this whole business affected her. He then came forward and gave her a gentle hug. She allowed him to hold her for a moment and then backed away, wiping the tears from her eyes with her hands. She took a deep breath and, smiling, looked up at him.

"Thank you, Alistair."

He gave her a kiss on her cheek and smiled. "Well, I'll leave you to rest. I'll see you soon."

A heavy burden fell off Lhiannon's heart and as she closed the door behind Alistair, she wept with relief and joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: I know what you're thinking…teyrn? Well, at the end of DA:O, if the boon you ask for is a title and all the riches that go with it, the Warden can be named Teyrn, so it's available. Anora gave most of my reasons why; she's got a lot to do and doesn't need a bunch of nobles jumping up and down, waiving their hands and shouting "PICK ME! PICK ME!" Besides, she hates Eamon and has no qualms about seeing him rot in western Ferelden. Please indulge me this one thing; I have a use for it. ;)_


	16. Damn My Foolish Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _For those of you following along, I ended up skipping a chapter while converting the story to AO3. You may want to go back and read Chapter 13: Blood and Anguish. I bet the story makes much more sense after that! My apologies for the brain fart._

Lhiannon had been to a small library within the castle after dinner, looking for any sort of books on her new arling, Amaranthine. She had never been there before and did not have the faintest idea of what it was like. Was it fertile? Forested? Hilly? The only thing she knew with any certainty was that it lay on the northern coast. She finally found one small tome on Amaranthine and took it back to her chambers. She turned the corner near her guest suite and looked up to see Loghain knocking on her door.

"I'm not there," she called out to him.

"I can see that now." He looked at the book in her hands. "What are you reading?"

"I was trying to find something on Amaranthine," she explained, opening the door and entering her suite. Loghain followed behind her and shut the door. Lhiannon limped over to the seating area and sat on the long sofa. "I've never been there before and now I'm Arlessa. Maker's breath, what have I gotten myself into?"

Loghain sat on the other end of the sofa, a sardonic grin on his face. "So you're a noble as well. I thought you didn't give a damn about Teyrns, Arls, or Banns."

Lhiannon rolled her eyes at him. "Looks like I don't have much choice in the matter now."

Loghain settled deeper in to the cushions of the couch. "I'm taking a quick trip to Gwaren before the wedding and coronation. I haven't been there since before Ostagar and I need to make my presence known again."

Lhiannon nodded. "I'll be using the time between now and then to learn what I can about Amaranthine and running a noble house. I understand the seneschal there is quite capable, but I still need to know how to govern." She grinned at Loghain. "That wasn't one of the subjects taught at the Circle; you know—magic must serve, not rule,"

"Come with me," Loghain suddenly offered. "I may not be the best example on governing, but I would be willing to let you observe." He paused, looking at her with the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. "I would not see you sent to the wolves unprepared."

Lhiannon laughed. "I'm glad someone doesn't want to see me torn apart by them." She paused, considering. "I'd be glad to accompany you to Gwaren. When do we leave and how long does it take to get there?"

"I'd like to leave tomorrow, if you're up to it."

"I think the fresh air would do me some good."

"We will arrive in just under a week if we take our time; less if we hurry. It's not a straight path from Denerim; we take the West Road to South Reach, then follow the Brecilian Passage from there. That is what takes the most time. I have already sent a messenger to have the seneschal prepare for our arrival."

"Tomorrow it is then," Lhiannon agreed.

A knock on the door drew their attention. Lhiannon moved to the door, sensing Alistair just beyond it. _He won't be happy to see Loghain here,_ she thought, grasping the handle of the door and pulling it open. Alistair gave her a warm smile, which quickly faded when he saw that Loghain was seated on the sofa inside.

"Alistair, would you like to come in? Loghain and I were just discussing Amaranthine," Lhiannon said, moving from the doorway and trying to keep her voice light. She saw Alistair hesitate briefly before nodding.

"I would. There are a couple of things I'd like to discuss with the two of you being here."

Lhiannon heard Loghain scoff quietly behind her and she turned toward him, giving him a look that both conveyed concern and annoyance. The last thing she wanted was the two of them at each other's throats when there were far greater things to worry about.

Alistair glared at Loghain, his hands crossed over his chest. "I can't believe Anora made _you_ Teyrn. _Again_. You don't deserve such an honor."

Loghain scoffed, but remained seated on the sofa, unconcerned. "Anora did not appoint me Teyrn to convey an honor. I questioned her decision when she announced it."

Alistair took a menacing step toward Loghain, who rose from the sofa to meet Alistair's challenging glare. Lhiannon watched them warily, not sure of where this conversation was going.

"I don't think you protested hard enough," Alistair spat. "I think you _wanted_ this; you want to stay as close to the throne as possible in case you need to 'help' Anora and Ferelden again. Your 'help' worked out so well before, _Your_ _Grace._ "

"Anora made me Teyrn to keep Ferelden stable, you bloody idiot," Loghain snarled at him. "In case you haven't noticed, Ferelden just suffered a Blight. It has weakened us, whether you wish to admit it or not. Anora has decided that making me Teyrn is in Ferelden's best interests."

Lhiannon watched as Alistair's face began to turn red with the depth of his anger. He moved toward Loghain threateningly, the space between them narrowing even further as his hands folded into tight fists. "But you _killed_ Duncan and the Grey Wardens! _That_ entitles you to such an honor?"

Loghain closed the distance between them, looming over Alistair and snarling into his face. "And Cailan was a fool. He would have taken the rest of Ferelden down with him in his ignorance."

Both men stopped when the glowing point of Lhiannon's staff suddenly appeared between them, pulsing an angry red and throwing off enough heat to make them both take a step back. They turned to look at Lhiannon, who gritted her teeth and snarled at both of them.

"The two of you," she began slowly, her voice low and ominous, "will stop acting like a pair of blight wolves fighting for dominance." She looked at each man in turn as she spoke to him. "You are to be King of Ferelden in one month," she growled at Alistair before turning to Loghain with the same tone of voice. "And you are Teyrn of Gwaren. Anora will need _both_ of you behind her in the coming months as Ferelden is rebuilt and the remnants of the horde are dealt with.

"You need to find a way to work together. If you can't do it for the sake of Ferelden, then Andraste's blood do it for the Queen's sake. She has enough to worry about without her father and husband at each other's throats." Lhiannon paused, watching the anger slowly drain out of Alistair and Loghain's faces. After several moments of silence, she continued. "Have I made myself clear, gentlemen?"

Alistair and Loghain glared at each other for a brief moment. Loghain was first to take a step backward, his fists unclenching. Alistair unclenched his own fists and ran his hand through his hair. Lhiannon nodded in satisfaction and pulled her staff away, the glow from the end quickly fading as the magical energies dissipated.

Loghain turned toward Lhiannon, the anger dropping from his face as he looked at her. "I shall leave you to your research on Amaranthine. I would like to depart for Gwaren early tomorrow. Meet me at the stables at dawn and we shall be on our way."

"Dawn it is then," Lhiannon nodded in agreement. "Good night, Your Grace."

"Good night, Commander," Loghain nodded, walking around Alistair and out of Lhiannon's chambers. Alistair watched him leave out of the corner of his eye. Once he was gone, Alistair turned to glare at Lhiannon in surprise and disbelief. "You're going to Gwaren _with him_?  Whatever for?"

Lhiannon went to the sofa and sat, motioning for Alistair to do so as well. "I need to see the workings of court first hand; I don't want to go into Amaranthine blind. There will likely be no such opportunity here in Denerim before I must leave for Amaranthine. I hear the seneschal there is capable, but I don't want it to seem that he's pulling the strings." She looked at Alistair, who had settled himself into the cushions at the other end of the sofa. "Did you know Anora was going to name Loghain Teyrn again?"

Alistair sighed and nodded slowly. "I suspected it. Anora did tell me afterward that she believed Ferelden was fragile now and making him Teyrn will impart some stability. I know she did it before the coronation because I would have no say in it now. That was backhanded of her."

"Loghain helped end the Blight, Alistair," Lhiannon said, nervously fingering the earrings in her ear. "He truly is becoming a fine Grey Warden. And Anora is right; Ferelden is very fragile right now. I'm sure there are some who would see our weakness as an opportunity."

"Are you talking the Orlesians?" Alistair asked, grimacing as he spoke. "Really, Lhiannon?" He paused, looking at her with brows furrowed. "You sound like _him_ now."

"It's not just Orlesians, Alistair. Having such an important part of Ferelden leaderless could cause internal problems. There would be all manner of nobles trying to curry favor using intrigue and guile to try and become Teyrn. We don't need to start fighting amongst ourselves…again. In that respect, she's right."

Alistair leaned forward, gesturing with his hands. "But this would have been the perfect time to name Arl Eamon the Teyrn of Gwaren. He's a good man and would have served Ferelden well there."

Lhiannon sighed wearily. "Alistair, Anora knows that Arl Eamon tried to have Cailan put her aside."

"So Anora made Loghain Teyrn out of spite?"

Lhiannon shook her head. "I think it more likely that she picked who was best for Ferelden. Loghain has been a Teyrn a long time and has, for the most part, served Ferelden well in that capacity. The crown needs stability now." She paused, leaning over to Alistair and putting a hand on his arm. "Alistair, once you become King, you need to focus on an heir."

Alistair looked up at her, a look of mild revulsion crossing his face. "Eeww."

Lhiannon chuckled at him, earning a small smile in return. "I know you and Anora have a long road ahead of you, but you must find a way to work together. Ferelden needs you both and you need to put its best interests first. That means an heir to the line of Calenhad."

"But you know how hard it can be for a Grey Warden to have a child."

"You need to try, Alistair," Lhiannon told him, taking his hand in her own. "If the Maker wills it, it will happen. Ask the mages to help you; they know a great deal about having children."

Alistair looked at Lhiannon, his eyes almost pleading with her. "But I don't love her. Andraste's blood, I don't even like her very much."

Lhiannon gripped Alistair's hand more tightly. "Do you both want what's best for Ferelden?"

"You know _I_ do, Lhiannon."

"Anora does as well. Let that be your foundation. Work together on what is best for Ferelden, Alistair. I know you'll find a way." Lhiannon paused, looking into Alistair's eyes and grinning at him. "Give her some of that charm you're so good at. Melt her ice."

Alistair scoffed at her, shaking his head. "You are so bad." He sighed wistfully, squeezing Lhiannon's hand gently. "I've missed talking with you, Lhi. You always helped me find my way."

Lhiannon smiled at him. "And I'll always be here, Alistair."

* * *

Lhiannon was awake and dressed in her riding leathers well before sunrise, her newly repaired elven armor gleaming brightly in the lamplight of her suite. She finished putting extra clothing and supplies into her pack and set them outside her suite before turning to pack up her armor. A servant was nearby to help carry her belongings out to the stables, where Loghain was no doubt waiting for her. She picked up her staff and closed the door behind her. She felt slightly naked without a sword; the sword she used to kill the archdemon was currently being mounted to a plaque to be displayed in the throne room. Loghain would have to search for a new sword, since Lhiannon had used his. He had grumbled a bit at losing the sword, but Lhiannon thought he was looking forward to procuring a new one. She planned on tagging along to find one for herself; she would need his expertise, as she had almost no idea what to look for in a sword.

Lhiannon chatted amiably with the servant carrying her packs. The servant was an elf and had many questions about Lhiannon's armor. Was it from Elvhenan? What kinds of enchantments were woven into it? Lhiannon patiently explained what she knew of the armor as they walked across the palace grounds to the stables. As she suspected, Loghain was indeed there, wearing his studded leathers and securing packs to his horse. The servant glanced nervously at Loghain before bowing and scuttling away.

"Let's be off," Loghain said as the sun began to clear the distant horizon. "We can be halfway to South Reach by nightfall if we make good time." As they traveled, Lhiannon noticed that Loghain's mood seemed to be lighter than usual. He bantered with her a bit as they traveled and seemed to enjoy the landscape around them.

"You are in quite the mood, Loghain," Lhiannon commented as they trotted side by side down the West Road.

"It is a refreshing change of pace to be traveling somewhere where war doesn't have to be either fought on the way or when we arrive at our destination."

Lhiannon nodded her agreement. "It is at that. It's been a long time since I've traveled somewhere where there wasn't war to be fought or messes to clean up."

Loghain chuckled. "I can assure you, there will be no messes in Gwaren. My seneschal knows better. I have put the fear of the Maker into him for years."

"Tell me about him," Lhiannon prompted.

"His name is Thorne and he's been in my service for a dozen years or so. He's capable, not overly ambitious, and he's also a complete fool."

"A _fool_? I can't imagine you having someone like that in your employ."

Loghain snorted. "A fool in that all I have to do is look at the man and I'm sure one day he will wet himself. He fears me and that isn't a bad thing."

Lhiannon laughed. Loghain appeared to be his old self after the battle with the archdemon. Which reminded her…"Loghain, how are your wounds from the battle? Are they bothering you much?"

"Not badly. The skin itches where the burns are healing. My arm is numb on occasion, but improving."

"Let me know if you would like some healing," Lhiannon offered. Loghain nodded, falling into his usual silence. They continued their trip toward South Reach, stopping at a small village when the sun was nearly set. Loghain was familiar with the inn in the village, having stayed there many times over the years. Taking the packs from their horses, Loghain led them inside to get rooms for the night.

They sat at a corner table in the common room of the inn, eating a hearty soup with fresh baked bread from the kitchen. The innkeeper's wife kept bringing more food out to them, their Grey Warden appetites fully engaged. Both had tankards of the local ale in front of them. Lhiannon found the brew to be smooth, much better than some of the ales she had from northern Ferelden. They had secured rooms for the night and left their packs and armor behind while they ate.

"Loghain, I want you to be my second in command of the Grey Wardens," Lhiannon began, raising her tankard of ale at the barkeep. He quickly brought both of them more ale.

"I accept. I'm sure it was a hard decision for you, with all the competition among the Grey Wardens." he drawled mockingly. "At least I know I'll be reporting to you. I don' t care for how the Grey Wardens report to no one."

Lhiannon nodded her agreement. "As do I. I think we will eventually be answering to the crown, seeing as that we are part of Amaranthine; we'll have to see. I can understand how not answering to anyone can breed mistrust." Loghain raised an eyebrow at her. "You taught me that," she told him, tipping her tankard toward him.

"I gathered up some of the archdemon's blood while you were recovering at Fort Drakon," he continued, spooning a mouthful of soup into his mouth. Lhiannon looked at him warily over her tankard of ale as Loghain spoke. "I read Riordan's papers after I confiscated them; before the Landsmeet. They told of how the ritual was prepared."

"Do you still have those papers?" Lhiannon asked guardedly. She had hoped he kept those records, or at least made copies before destroying the original ones.

Loghain nodded. "Yes. They are in a safe place in Denerim. When we go to Vigil's Keep, I'll bring them along."

Lhiannon nodded, relieved, setting her tankard on the table. "I would also like you to help recruit and train new Grey Wardens. Who could turn down the Hero of River Dane when he comes looking for Wardens?" She flashed a grin at him and he found himself returning it. _She's striking when she smiles_ , he thought.

"If that is what you wish."

"It is," she replied, setting her spoon down and wiping her mouth with a napkin. She was finally full and beginning to feel tired from the riding. She still was not completely healed yet and found herself tiring easily.

Loghain was also nearly finished with his meal. He was still not used to his Grey Warden appetite. He had eaten meager meals and rations for so long he felt like a glutton now. As he went to set his empty tankard on the table, he moved his arm just so, causing his injury to flare and making the arm and hand go numb. The tankard clattered to the floor, drawing a concerned look from Lhiannon.

"Are you all right?"

Loghain waved her off, irritated. "It's nothing," he grumbled as he returned the tankard to the table.

Lhiannon stood up and beckoned him along. "If your arm pains you, let me heal it. Come, let me look at it."

"Lhiannon," Loghain began, warning in his voice. "It will be fine."

"Nonsense. Let me help you." She raised a brow at him and smirked. "Don't make me order it."

Loghain sighed, exasperated. "You need not fuss over me like an old woman." However, he knew arguing with Lhiannon was futile. He rose from the table and they climbed the stairs to where their rooms were.

Loghain entered his room first, Lhiannon following a step behind. She shut the door behind them and turned to see Loghain massaging his numb hand. She gently took his hand and began to whisper the healing spell. Her thumbs worked their way out from the center of his palm and Loghain could feel the numbness subside as the warmth of the healing spell traveled up his arm. Her hands moved over his hand gently but firmly for several moments. Her hands gradually stopped moving, still holding his hand in hers. She took a tentative step closer to him and he could faintly smell the soap she used that morning to wash her hair. It smelled like lilacs. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent.

Lhiannon watched his face relax as his eyes closed and she could feel the longing once again building inside of her. He opened his eyes and looked down into hers, his jaw set. "This is foolish," he said unconvincingly, the desire burning in his blood and nearly driving him mad. He could feel his control beginning to slip precariously.

Lhiannon took yet another step closer to him and could feel his body heat radiating off him. She raised his hand up and placed it on her chest over her heart, feeling the heat of his hand through her shirt. Her pulse began to quicken; Loghain could feel her heart fluttering just beyond the flesh. "Foolish? Very likely," she said quietly, her eyes locked on his. "But I don't care. I believe you don't either." As she spoke, she felt Loghain's free hand settle itself onto the small of her back and pull her closer to him. Lhiannon raised her face his and brushed his cheek with her lips as she spoke. "Let go," she whispered, her voice low with desire.

He pulled away slightly, looking intently into her eyes as if studying them. He brought his hand up to her face, cupping it gently as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss started slowly, but then began to increase in intensity, the kisses turning hungrier and harder. Lhiannon brushed her tongue up against his teeth and he growled deep in his throat, pushing his tongue into her mouth to chase hers. She wrapped her arms around him and clutched him tightly, pressing herself closer to his body, feeling his growing harness touch her. She moaned into his mouth as he ground himself against her, the sound low and urgent. A deep heat began to spread from her center, her hips helplessly grinding into his as the heat grew. Not taking his lips from hers, Loghain pushed her up against the wall, pinning her in place.

Lhiannon hooked her ankle around the back of his leg, holding him to her as his mouth began to wander down her jaw and neck, sucking and nipping. She buried her hands in his hair, reveling in the surprising softness of it. His mouth worked its way back up to hers and she was crushed under his lips again, the intensity of his kiss leaving her breathless. She held his face to hers as he ravaged her mouth; teeth and tongue working her over in a delightful frenzy. Hands roamed over bodies, learning and plundering the new landscape. Loghain's hands brushed across Lhiannon's breasts and she sighed with pleasure into his working mouth. His hands moved to the ties on her shirt, pulling the laces open…when a knock at the door stopped them both in place. Their kiss broke abruptly and they looked into each other's eyes, their shoulders slumping in disappointment and foreheads touching.

"Andraste's flaming arse," Lhiannon sighed, breathless.

"Indeed," Loghain agreed as they untangled themselves from one another. Loghain went to the door and pulled it open, scowling at the interruption. "What is it?" he growled at the servant outside the door.

"Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but we've received reports of bandits on the road between here and South Reach. We wanted to let you know to be wary if you venture outside tonight."

"Thank you," he snarled, slamming the door in the servant's face. _Bloody bastard_. He turned to look at Lhiannon, running a hand through his hair. "We should probably retire for the evening. We have a lot of riding to do tomorrow."

Lhiannon reached up and stroked his cheek before she turned to leave. "Good night, Loghain."

* * *

"Holy Maker. Oh wow."

Lhiannon quietly closed the door behind her after leaving Loghain's room just next door. Leaning her back against it, she slid down to the floor with her knees up and her forearms resting on them. Her heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of her chest. She could feel the burning need in her leaving a dull ache in her abdomen. Just how far would they have gone had the servant not interrupted them with news of bandits? How far would she have let him go? She put her head in her hands and realized that if they had not been interrupted, she would have let him go as far as he liked; she had wanted no less herself.

She wanted _him_ , body and soul.

* * *

Loghain awoke the next morning after a fitful sleep. He had lain awake in his bed for most of the night, and not simply because the bed was strange and uncomfortable. In his mind he kept replaying the passionate moment he and Lhiannon had shared just scant hours before. He would have taken her had they not been interrupted, of that he was sure. The heaviness in his loins confirmed it. While he was ready to abandon all reservations the previous evening, in the cold light of dawn, doubt began to creep back to gnaw at him. It would not be fair to her to lead her this way; heartbreak at the hands of death or the Calling was the only thing that would be found at the end of this path.

Loghain rose from the bed and dressed, donning his leathers in the darkness of his room. He quickly scanned the room to make sure he would leave nothing behind before picking up his packs and heading down to the common area. He half expected to see Lhiannon there, wolfing down a quick breakfast before they continued their journey to Gwaren. As he entered the room, there was no one there but a servant and the cook. The cook offered a hot breakfast to him, but he was satisfied with taking a few sweet cakes and pieces of fruit that he could eat on the trip. He stashed his breakfast into a pack then walked out to the stalls to begin saddling his horse for the day's journey.

As Loghain neared the barn, he heard Lhiannon chatting amiably with the stable boy. He rounded the corner to find that her horse was already brushed and saddled, the packs already in place. Lhiannon was crouched down and securing the saddle to Loghain's own horse, the stable boy trying in vain to talk her aside so he could perform the duty.

"Nonsense," she gently admonished him. "I can do this myself. I'm grateful for the exercise it brings. I have recently laid in bed for a week and now I feel the need to burn off some energy."

Reluctantly convinced, the stable boy turned his attention to the other horses in the stalls and began to feed and brush them. Loghain approached his horse and began to fasten his packs to the saddle as Lhiannon finished securing it.

"Good morning," she said, her voice sounding strangely formal to Loghain.

"And you. Are you ready to ride?"

She nodded, turning to her own horse without meeting his eyes. "Yes, let's be off."

They rode in silence for some time, putting the inn behind them as they continued their journey toward South Reach. Loghain had told Lhiannon that they should be there well before sunset tonight, should the weather remain fair. He also thought about possibly continuing on past South Reach and onto the Brecilian Passage if they made particularly good time that day. The weather was indeed fair, so it was certainly possible for them to make excellent time.

"Loghain," Lhiannon said questioningly as she brought her horse up next to his. "We should probably discuss what happened last night."

Loghain had been both dreading and anticipating this conversation. He was not a good conversationalist in the best of times; this particular subject would likely make him less so. He sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Perhaps it was a mistake," he said, the words feeling like lies and ash in his mouth. _It's for her own good,_ he kept repeating to himself. No matter how many times he repeated it, trying to convince himself, it still felt like an ugly, cruel lie.

Lhiannon stared down at the reins in her hands; Loghain saw that she was gripping them so tightly she was likely putting dents into the leather of her gloves. "Is that what you truly believe?" she asked quietly. Then she scoffed, her words becoming hard as they left her lips. "I think you fool yourself."

Loghain shook his head slowly. "Lhiannon, you are young enough to be my daughter."

"I am not so young. Age is but a number."

Seeing that she was not to be moved by that argument, he tried the next one that came to mind. "You are my Commander; it would not be proper."

Lhiannon was still looking down at her hands. "Whatever is growing between us took seed long before I was your Commander. Surely you know this. As long as we keep duty and personal business separate, I fail to see a problem."

Lhiannon seemed to have an answer for his every argument and protest. Loghain stared down at his horse's mane, trying his best to keep his face neutral and his eyes away from hers. If he looked into those deep, dark eyes, he would lose what precious little control he had.

"Why do you lie to yourself?" she demanded quietly. "Do you fear this? Should you not take what the Maker offers you?"

Loghain scoffed, thinking back on what the bloody _Maker_ had done for him. The Maker gave him Rowan for all too brief a time before duty called her to Maric and the throne, taking a large piece of his heart with her. Then the _Maker_ took her away and the piece of his heart that she always held died with her, leaving a gaping hole in its place. "The Maker took such things from me long ago."

"He can always return it, Loghain. It need not be gone forever." She paused and Loghain could hear her take a deep hitching breath. "If you truly believe that what happened between us is a mistake in your heart, then it shall end here. But I _know_ in _my_ heart that this is worth pursuing, Loghain. I think you do as well."

Loghain turned to her, watching as she kept her eyes downcast. "And what if we did pursue this?" he said, perhaps more harshly than he intended when her saw her flinch. "Surely you realize that my death or the Calling will come long before yours." He lowered his voice, speaking gently to her. "Where then would that leave you, other than alone?"

Lhiannon suddenly turned to Loghain, her dark eyes flashing with a fire he had not seen in them before. "You think I am unaware of that? And who is to say that _I_ will not die before _you_?" she challenged him angrily. As he watched, the fire in her eyes began to extinguish as tears filled them. She fought to keep them from falling. "I would take as many years, or as few, as the Maker sees fit to grant you and treasure each one as His gift."

Loghain was trying to find a new argument to make her see reason, but his mind was in turmoil. He wanted her, yet he wanted to protect her from the heartbreak his eventual departure would cause. It _would_ come before hers; their ages were a testament to that very fact.

Lhiannon turned to face him, her face a mask of stone. "Let me tell you a story. I met a special someone during my time at Kinloch Hold. We loved each other and were committed to each other—before the Chantry took him and made him Tranquil. It destroyed _everything_. His being made Tranquil left a gaping hole in my heart that I thought no one would ever fill. And no one had in the eight years since; I have been alone all that time. Alistair and I were close, but he never filled that hole."

She looked at Loghain with narrowed eyes and when she spoke to him again, her voice was breaking. "And then _you_ came into my life, and eventually that gaping hole began to slowly fill. I never believed it was possible. _You_ filled that empty place in my heart." She paused and scoffed harshly before continuing. "Do you even _know_ what that feels like?"

"I do know, better than you think," was his quiet reply.

"Then why do you deny this? I _know_ the fear you feel, opening yourself up once more. I was afraid that I would never feel that way about anyone again. But I hope you can decide that it's a chance worth taking. _I_ know it is."

They were silent for several moments, horses walking side by side along the path. The wind was gently whistling through the trees. The birds, however, had gone silent, as if knowing their cheery song would not be welcome among the two travelers in their midst.

"Why did you weep for me?" Lhiannon asked quietly, breaking the deafening silence.

Loghain's brows knitted together in confusion. "What?"

"You wept for me after I killed the archdemon," Lhiannon began quietly; her eyes were back to looking at the reins in her hands. "I remember you carrying me. I remember seeing your tears. Why did you weep?"

Loghain was silent for some time, thinking of his answer. He had not known she saw his tears as he carried her dying body off the roof of Fort Drakon. He realized that he was afraid to answer Lhiannon's question, knowing full well the reason he wept for her. He was afraid of admitting the truth to her far more than he feared any Orlesian or darkspawn. Was it not better to break her heart now than to do so later through death or the Calling? He felt cruel.

They traveled in silence for several minutes before Lhiannon took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice hard. "Well, I hope that whatever happens—whatever _you_ decide is the best path—we shall remain friends. I have come to value your friendship a great deal."

Loghain nodded, feeling a lump in his throat that was never there before. "The bonds of friendship between us cannot be broken," he said quietly. "You shall always have it. There have been few in my life that I have called such, but you are one of them."

That was little comfort to Lhiannon, who felt her heart being shattered into tiny fragments again, the yawning chasm within growing larger with every passing moment. She spurred her horse to travel up ahead of Loghain by a number of yards, pulling her hood up and cloak around her as she did so. She wanted to mourn what she thought would never be and did not want him to see her tears. _Damn my foolish heart._


	17. I Was a Fool

Lhiannon could smell the ocean on the breeze; she knew then that they were close to Gwaren. She would occasionally needle Loghain with queries of "are we there yet?", earning a number of growls and exasperated looks from him. She had said nothing further on that first day through the forest and Loghain found the silence deafening. He was not sure what he could say to bridge the growing chasm between them so he fell into an old habit; he said nothing. They had stopped at a small cabin along the Brecilian Passage. There were a number of them along the passage, Loghain explained; small, two room shelters used by hunters and travelers through the passage consisting of a living area and sleeping area. When they stopped for the first night, Loghain had gone off to hunt while Lhiannon gathered wood and started a fire in the small fireplace. By the time Loghain had returned, a fire was burning merrily in the fireplace. Lhiannon sat on a small stool next to the fire, reading her book on Amaranthine, her face set in stone. They ate their meal in silence and afterward Loghain offered Lhiannon the bed in the sleeping area; he would use his bedroll and sleep in the living area. The words were barely out of his mouth when she picked up her book and went to the sleeping area, mumbling a good night and closing the door quietly behind her. He neither saw nor heard anything further from her until she emerged the next morning, dressed and packed for the day's ride even earlier than he normally was.

On the second day through the forest, Lhiannon began to speak to him again in lighter tones. She was not her usual chatty self, but at least the silence was abating. By the time they neared Gwaren, she was like her old self. Mostly. It seemed to Loghain that her face was like a mask; her emotions never reached her eyes. The only one that did was a profound sadness. It made his heart ache, knowing he was behind that look. _It's for the best,_ he kept telling himself, in the hopes that he may actually start to believe it. So far, it was not working.

When the ocean breeze drifted into Lhiannon's nostrils, Loghain turned his head to look at her from where he rode at point. " _Now_ we're here," he grinned at her as they rounded a bend and exited the forest. Lhiannon's first thought of Gwaren was that  is was smaller than she thought it would be. There was a large harbor in the distance with many boats moored there. Low buildings dotted the streets and she could see a large manor set on a hill above the town.

There had not been any sort of welcome or fanfare when they arrived, which was just how Loghain wanted it. Those people that were on the streets noticed Loghain riding through the town with Lhiannon at his side and many waved and called out to him amiably as he passed by on his way to the manor; that was enough of a welcome for him. Despite all that had happened in the last year, many of his people had remained loyal to him. It was something he had appreciated.

As Loghain and Lhiannon entered the walls of the manor, they found a stable boy waiting to take their horses. The seneschal, Thorne, was waiting for them. Thorne looked at Lhiannon with a puzzled expression on his face, as if he was not sure who this unknown woman was. Loghain and Lhiannon swiftly dismounted from their horses, handing the reins to the stable boy. Other servants began to remove the packs from the horses and carried them to the manor.

"Come," Loghain called to Lhiannon as he began to make his way toward the manor. Thorne bowed as Loghain and Lhiannon walked by, then scampered along after them.

"Your Grace," Thorne stammered nervously, "it is good to have you back in Gwaren. If I may ask, who is your guest?"

"This is the new Arlessa of Amaranthine and Grey Warden Commander, Lhiannon Amell," Loghain responded crisply.

Thorne bowed his head to Lhiannon. "The Hero of Ferelden? This is an honor. My lady, I am Seneschal Thorne. Welcome to Gwaren."

Lhiannon nodded her head. "I thank you for your welcome."

"Don't get used to my being here," Loghain growled at Thorne. "We will be leaving for Denerim again in a few days for the wedding and coronation."

"But, Your Grace," Thorne stammered again, which caused Loghain's ire to begin to rise, "you just arrived. The nobles will want to hold court since you've been away for so long. They tire of seeing my face every day."

Loghain stopped and whirled about, looming over Thorne, which caused the man to break out in sweat across his forehead. Lhiannon could see what Loghain meant about putting the fear of the Maker into him. She watched the color drain from Thorne's face. "I will hear the petitions of whatever nobles can be here in three days. The rest can wait to hold court until the matters in Denerim are settled. I also have duties with the Grey Wardens that cannot be put off for too long." Loghain and Lhiannon began to mount the steps toward the main door of the manor and Thorne scurried ahead to open the door for them.

Lhiannon looked around as they entered the manor, their footsteps echoing on the floor as they made their way through the halls. She was intensely curious about the place that Loghain had called home for so long. It was simply furnished, which did not surprise her. Loghain did not seem to be the type of man that collected rare or expensive baubles. They continued through the manor to his private office. As they entered, she saw a few items that Loghain had collected that could be considered treasures or keepsakes. There was an Orlesian pen and inkwell set on the elaborate desk that occupied a large corner of the room. Several maps were painstakingly mounted in frames on the walls. A small, ornate jewelry chest and gaudy lantern sat on the mantle of the fireplace within. Above the fireplace was mounted a sword, an Orlesian style that Lhiannon was immediately curious about. A door led off the room toward what Lhiannon assumed where Loghain's private chambers.

Loghain was removing the top half of his studded leathers as he walked into the room. Thorne followed him in and motioned to a pile of parchment on the desk. He turned and lighted several of the wall sconces to provide more light for reading. Lhiannon sat in a chair across the desk from Loghain's own.

"All your reports are there for you, Your Grace. I could give you a summary of them if you prefer."

Loghain walked over to the armor stand and began to place his leathers on the rack. He grinned to himself. Thorne was a twit, but he was a capable, trustworthy twit. When he finished putting the leathers on the rack, Loghain walked to his desk and sat. This was the very desk that Maric had used all those years ago when he first held court in Gwaren. He sat in this very chair, writing desperate letters to the Ferelden nobles, trying to convince them to join the rebel army to throw the usurper out of Denerim. This was also the place where Maric had killed the traitor Katriel. Maric had called it murder; Loghain had called it justice. The room served to remind him of everything they had fought for.

"Yes, Thorne, give me a summary for now," he said, resting his forearms on the desk and waiting for Thorne to begin.

"First off, the semiannual taxes have been brought in. Most everyone was able to pay them on time, which was a miracle considering the Blight, but we have a few households and businesses claiming hardship. I have a list of hardship cases for you to review at your convenience. We've also counted how much needs to go to Denerim and will be sending an armed escort party there next week."

"Good," Loghain replied curtly. "What of the army?"

"Ser Cauthrein has been making sure the army is ready for any need that may arise. She has recruited new soldiers to replace those lost fighting during the civil war. There have been a few small darkspawn bands in the area, but nothing of major consequence."

_ Cauthrein _ _ is here? _ Lhiannon thought to herself, shifting uneasily in her seat. She was not sure what to make of that, since the last time they saw each other they had done their best to kill one another.

Loghain nodded, pleased. "Excellent. Send a message to her that I'll want to see her here tomorrow morning. There are other military matters I wish to discuss with her."

"We've nearly completed the repairs needed in Gwaren both from the darkspawn incursions and some of the rioting that occurred during the civil war."

Loghain frowned, deep lines furrowing in his forehead. "How badly did Gwaren suffer?"

Thorne shook his head. "There was terrible damage to a number of buildings and there were casualties. However, we were able to fend off the darkspawn and that helped quell the rioting that took place."

"Did you apprehend those that were responsible for the rioting?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Those that we caught are currently in the dungeons. The rest were killed," Thorne explained.

Loghain sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. So much damage had been caused by the civil war. He had done what he thought was best at the time, but he was by no means perfect. This would have to be a lesson for him; truly a bitter pill to swallow. No matter though; as Lhiannon had told him numerous times, what is past, is past. One can only learn from the mistakes and move forward, which he had tried to do since becoming a Grey Warden.

"What else?" Loghain asked.

"The port is doing excellent business now that the Blight has been turned back," Thorne continued, clearly more relaxed. "There are more ships sailing in and we are collecting the usual tariffs. I mentioned before that the nobles would like to hold court soon. Shall I schedule something in the near future?"

Loghain shook his head. Holding court was not one of his favorite things to do, but it was a necessary evil. He would have to hold court sometime soon, as much as that thought turned his stomach. "No, don't schedule anything yet. I do not know when I shall be returning from Denerim and Amaranthine. You will have to dispense justice while I am gone."

"Yes, Your Grace. That is all the information I have for you at this time."

Loghain ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "Thorne, please have the servants bring a meal to the Arlessa and me in my sitting room. It has been a long trip and we are both tired and hungry."

"Would you like me to take your reports there, Your Grace?"

Loghain shook his head. "No, I'll take them myself." He paused, sitting back in his chair and regarding Thorne for a moment. Lhiannon saw that the man began to get nervous again, shifting his weight from foot to foot; those icy blue eyes of Loghain's boring into him. She felt pity for the man. She knew how unsettling those eyes could be.

"How long have you been in my service, Thorne?" Loghain asked.

"About twelve years, Your Grace," Thorne stammered, becoming nervous again. "Are you unhappy with my service?"

"Hmm," Loghain snorted, rubbing his chin with his hand. "Well, Thorne, I must say that you've done well running things while I have been gone. I'm impressed. I will be increasing your stipend. Good work."

Thorne visibly relaxed, sighing heavily. Compliments from Teyrn Loghain were few and far between. "Thank you, Your Grace. Good evening, My Lady." He bowed to both Loghain and Lhiannon, then turned and left the room, a broad smile on his face. Loghain merely shook his head and scoffed. _Twit_.

"I see what you mean about your seneschal having the fear of the Maker," Lhiannon smirked at him.

Loghain leaned back in his chair, knotting his hands behind his head. "It never hurts to have them fear you a little."

* * *

Loghain could not sleep. He had hoped that being in his own bed in his own home would bring him a sound rest, something that had evaded him for many months now. Unfortunately, his racing mind would not allow his body to relax. His mind kept returning to what he had done on the trip to Gwaren; he had pushed Lhiannon away, telling himself that it was for her own good. He was greatly surprised at the ache that had settled in to his heart, like a dagger being thrust into it over and over again. He was still trying to convince himself that it would be cruel to commit himself to her only to have death or the Calling come in a scant few years. A small voice, however, began to whisper doubt into his ear. Would it be _more cruel_ to not make the commitment?

Sighing irritably, Loghain rose from his bed and pulled on a pair of leather trousers. He quietly left his room, padding with bare feet through the halls of the manor to the guest room where Lhiannon was staying. He stood outside the door for a long while; was she sleeping? Lying awake in bed, haunted by demons and doubt as he was?

Lhiannon had been lying awake in bed and sensed him just outside the door. She quietly rose, creeping over to the door in her bare feet and listening. She gently rested her forehead against the door, silently willing him to come to her. _Maker, have him see,_ she implored. This was his decision to make; she would wait a little longer for him. As a tear rolled down her cheek, she told herself that if he had not made his decision by the time they the left for Amaranthine, she would have to move on. She hoped that he would _see_ before it came to that.

* * *

Loghain was in his office thumbing through the new correspondence that had recently arrived. Word had spread quickly that the Teyrn was back in Gwaren and in the few days he had been back, the volume of correspondence from the nobles had increased. Some of the letters conveyed congratulations on the defeat of the archdemon and welcomed him back to Gwaren. They had expressed interest in holding court soon, of course. Everyone wants to be seen with a hero. Loghain sighed; while some of the nobles in the teyrnir were decent, loyal people, others were opportunists looking to better their position with him. Not bloody likely, that. He stifled a yawn with his hand; he was still not sleeping well of late.

Loghain set the correspondence aside, awaiting the arrival of both Lhiannon and Ser Cauthrien. As he waited, his eyes fell on the ornate inkwell and pen that had sat on his desk for years. It had belonged to the Orlesian sympathizer that had been Teyrn of Gwaren before Loghain. When the rebel army took Gwaren, Maric and Loghain had kept some of the former Teyrn's possessions as spoils; they were to be reminders of what they had fought for. He reached out and brushed his fingers across the cool metal of the inkwell, his mind wandering back in time to when they had first arrived here.

_ I hurt her. _

Loghain stared into the metal of the inkwell, mesmerized by the color and feel of it. He ran his fingers over the raised design as he had for years, his mind drifting toward Lhiannon for what seemed like the thousandth time since they arrived in Gwaren. His eyes began to feel heavy as his fingers slowed their movement on the metal.

_ You're a damned bloody fool, Loghain. You know that, right? Don't you think she has a say in the matter? Stop being such a stubborn ass and take the chance!  _ The thought had a voice that sounded so much like Maric, Loghain thought he was in the room with him. It would be something Maric would say to him. Loghain's fingers stopped moving along the inkwell as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

_ I told her once that I was a man accustomed to taking chances. She believes it's a chance worth taking. The bloody voice in my head that is Maric believes it's a chance worth taking. _

A knock on the door drew Loghain's attention and it only took him a second to realize that he felt the taint just outside. Lhiannon had arrived before Cauthrien. As he walked to the door and grasped the handle, he had made a decision.

_ I am a man accustomed to taking chances. _

* * *

The meeting with Ser Cauthrien had gone very well. She was preparing to leave after having discussed several military matters with Loghain. He wanted to take a number of troops back to Denerim and eventually Amaranthine, both to help keep Ferelden from looking like an expansionist opportunity and to possibly have some join the Grey Wardens. Lhiannon and Cauthrein had been polite to each other, but it was clear that they would likely not be on friendly terms any time soon. As Lhiannon and Cauthrien said polite goodbyes to each other, Thorne came into the room and spoke to Loghain briefly before hurrying out again.

"Thorne tells me that several of the nobles have arrived to have justice dispensed," Loghain began, his face grimacing in distaste. "Favor currying bastards."

Lhiannon scoffed at him, grinning. "Well, I certainly look forward to watching you work."

Loghain stood from his chair, ceremonial armor gleaming. "Then let's not keep them waiting any longer. I want those lickspittles out of here as soon as possible." He held out a hand and she took it, rising from her chair and following him to his audience chamber.

"My Lords and Ladies, the Teyrn of Gwaren," Lhiannon heard Thorne call out to the assembly. As they entered the audience chamber, she saw that perhaps a dozen nobles and landholders were there, dressed in finer clothes. Loghain took his place on his chair under a large banner of a yellow wyvern; Lhiannon would not have called it a throne, as it was far too plain. For Loghain, however, it was perfect. Loghain indicated a chair off to the side of the dais for Lhiannon to take. She sat as Loghain sat and watched as Thorne announced the first case of the day.

The business of the court went on for several hours, Loghain dispensing his firm justice. Lhiannon found that the arguments were about things that did not surprise her: monies owed, land disputes, and the settling of disputes among neighbors. One case also had a farmer's flock of chickens decimated by the untrained dogs of another; Loghain had ruled that the dogs' owner should repay the farmer for his animals. Thorne had joined Lhiannon during the affair, explaining the intricacies of court politics to her. She found his advice invaluable. After the last case was heard, Thorne announced that the business was concluded and began to shepherd the nobles out of the chamber. Loghain remained seated for a few moments after the last had left, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Lhiannon rose and went to his side.

"Headache?" she asked him.

Loghain grunted an affirmative. "All that whining and groveling grates on my nerves."

Lhiannon gently touched his shoulder and sent a small wave of healing magic toward Loghain. He sighed and relaxed. "Thank you."

"I thank you for letting me observe. I learned much, both from you and from Thorne. I can see why you value you him so."

Loghain rose and stretched. "He is a capable seneschal."

"From you, that's high praise."

"Come," he said, shaking his head at her. "Let us go to my office so I can finish the damned paperwork from today's bickering."

* * *

Lhiannon and Loghain had retired to his office after the last of the nobles had left the manor. Loghain was scowling as he set his signature and seal to the paperwork that Thorne presented him, the official records of that day's proceedings. When he was finished, Thorne bowed and left to take the one copy of the paperwork to the manor's vault. A messenger would send a copy to the parties involved and another to Denerim. As Thorne left, two squires came in. One began to gather Loghain's ceremonial armor to be cleaned and polished. The other handed a long cloth to Loghain before gathering the remaining pieces of Loghain's armor. They bowed and left as quickly as they appeared, Loghain closing and quietly bolting the door behind them.

"I have something to show you," Loghain said hesitantly as he placed the long cloth on his desk. He looked at Lhiannon, who was eying him warily.

"What is this?" she asked, her eyes traveling from the cloth to Loghain and back again. He simply raised his eyebrows at her. Lhiannon stood, pulling a corner of the cloth back to reveal a silverite sword with delicate designs carved into the hilt and blade. She looked at Loghain, brow furrowed in confusion.

"What the…"

"It's called 'Spellweaver'," he explained. "I found it with a dwarven merchant in Denerim. He said it's an elven design made specifically for mages; it vibrates in the hands of anyone who isn't a mage." He looked into Lhiannon's wary eyes. "It will act as a focus for your magic."

"My magic?" she said slowly, looking at Loghain suspiciously.

"It's yours."

Lhiannon shook her head slowly, astonished at such a gesture. She never expected it from him, especially after what passed between them on the way to Gwaren. She picked it up and could feel the enchantments woven in the metal. It hummed with power as she took a couple of experimental swings with it.

"This is too much," she protested. "I can't…"

"You certainly can," he insisted. "More to the point, you know as much about procuring a sword as I do procuring a magic staff, is that not so?"

"I suppose it is," Lhiannon agreed. Her eyes narrowed at Loghain and she looked at him with both confusion and suspicion. "Why?" she asked, her voice taking a hard edge.

"You _do_ need a new sword, since the last one you had—which _was_ mine by the way—is decorating the wall of the throne room in Denerim."

"That's not what I meant," Lhiannon said slowly.

Loghain looked uncomfortable for a moment but quickly shrugged it off. "It is not a bribe..."

"Then what, _exactly_ , is it?"

"It is a 'thank you' for all that you've done for Ferelden. For all that you've done for _me_."

Loghain smiled at her; Lhiannon found that he looked years younger when he did that and wistfully wished he smiled more often. She felt some of the suspicion slowly fade as she gently set the sword back on the cloth and circled around the desk to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering there for the briefest of moments before she stepped away. "Most generous. Thank you."

Loghain's body felt like it was suddenly on fire, the heat beginning where she kissed his cheek and radiating outward. He found that it took all of his willpower to not throw everything off his desk and take her right then and there. The thought of her pliant body under his was nearly enough to drive him mad. The blood began to roar in his ears. His hands went to her waist, drawing her close once again. "You're quite welcome," he spoke softly, his eyes boring into hers. Her mask began to falter and he watched as tears filled her sad eyes.

"For love of the Maker, do not torment me, Loghain," she pleaded with him in anguish as the tears fell. "Either pursue this or release me if you feel this is so wrong. I cannot fight this battle again."

He brought a hand up to her face, brushing her tears away. "I was a fool," he told her quietly, his voice tender. "I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I just want _you_."

Lhiannon's expression softened, turning from anguished to expectant. Taking that as encouragement, Loghain lowered his lips to hers, holding them there for a moment before breaking the kiss. He pulled his head back and looked at her. Her brows slightly furrowed as if confused.

"It has been nearly a lifetime alone for me," he whispered, caressing her face with the tips of his fingers.

Lhiannon brought her hand to his face, resting her hand on his cheek. "You're not alone any longer."

Loghain lowered his face to hers again. He tried to be gentle, but instead crushed her mouth with his, the longing in him taking over. Her tongue darted into his mouth as she desperately clung to him, brushing his teeth and he growled from deep within his throat. Their mouths still fused together, she moved her hands under his shirt. His skin was warm and taut and she could feel the muscles just below the surface. He may be older, but the years of warfare and training had kept him fit. He trembled at her touch and she could feel his skin breaking out in gooseflesh. He brought his hands from Lhiannon's waist, loosening the ties to her shirt as her hands wandered to his chest and began to fumble with the ties on his. She pushed the shirt up and over his head; it dropped to the floor in a heap. She ran her hands up and down his chest and then over to his back, feeling the muscles twitch as her hands traveled. She placed feather light kisses on his skin.

Loghain finally was able to loosen the ties to Lhiannon's shirt and he gently brought it over her head, dropping it to the floor to join his. Her breast band followed close behind. His burning hot hands traveled along her body, feeling both rough and soft against her skin as he trailed kisses down her neck and shoulders. She could feel her own skin breaking out in gooseflesh and she trembled under his touch. He loosened the ties to her trousers and pushed them down. With a flick of her foot, the trousers landed in a pile not far away. Lhiannon's hands moved to the ties of his own trousers, loosing them until she was able to twist a hand down the front, caressing his hardened length. He growled in pleasure and brought his face up to hers once again, devouring her mouth with his own as she held him. She removed her hand and pushed his trousers down. He stepped out of them, grinding himself up against her with only his smallclothes between them. Lhiannon felt her hips helplessly move against his.

Loghain ran his hands down her back and under her backside, picking her up and holding her tight against him. Lhiannon wrapped her legs around his waist, squirming against his hardness. He growled as he carried her to his inner bedchamber, her movements causing a pleasurable friction against him. Somehow, they managed to remove the rest of their small clothes and fell into his bed. He lay on top of her, greedily kissing her breasts and brushing the nipples with his tongue. She grasped handfuls of his hair and arched her back, giving him more access. As she arched, he slid his hand down to her thigh and began to caress it, the rough skin on his hand nearly driving her into a frenzy. When she thought she could not take the slow torture any longer, she grasped his hand in an iron grip, moving it up toward her most private of places. He understood and moved his hand closer, beginning to circle her opening with his fingers as he came back to claim her lips in his own. Lhiannon writhed beneath him, encouraging him with small breathless moans escaping her lips. He slid first one, then two fingers into her and gripped her firmly. He rhythmically moved his fingers within her, exploring her from the inside. Her writhing intensified, this new torture more deliciously maddening than the last.

"Loghain, please," she begged breathlessly. Loghain withdrew his fingers and positioned himself between her legs, any semblance of control skittering away. With a groan of pleasure, he pushed inside her. Lhiannon arched her back and lifted her hips to meet him. They found a rhythm with one another, hips moving together as one. She pulled him down to her and kissed him hungrily, his tongue finding its way into her mouth once again. He pulled her legs up and she hooked them behind his waist to draw him in even deeper. Lhiannon felt the heat building in her core and found herself breathing faster and squirming under Loghain with greater desperation, searching for her release. She clutched at his back, digging her fingertips into his skin and leaving small marks there. His movements became harder and faster as he neared his own climax, their breathing more ragged as their pleasure increased. She willed herself to wait and cross the threshold with him but knew it would be a fruitless effort. With a gasp she felt her release begin inside her, her muscles gripping Loghain even tighter as she arched her back beneath him; she began to feel his convulsions as he too reached his release. He joined her cry with one of his own as the tremors overtook him and he settled himself on top of her, his sweat mingling with hers as his tremors continued, then finally calmed.

After a few moments, Loghain rolled onto his side, withdrawing from her warmth. He pulled Lhiannon onto her side so they could look at each other eye to eye. He gently brushed a lock of stray hair from her face, running his fingers over her cheek before slowly tracing the line of her jaw with his fingertips. A finger came around to rest on her lips and she kissed it. His hand softly moved back to her cheek, holding it gently.

"I have fallen in love with you," he admitted to her at last, the weight falling off his shoulders, the final pieces of his walls crumbling to dust.

Lhiannon stroked the side of his face with a finger. "I know," she whispered. "And I you." She scoffed and gave him a grin. "I expect we'll be executed for some sort of treason when we return to Denerim. We will be quite the source of gossip at the very least, I'm sure."

He chuckled, running a finger down her neck and watching as gooseflesh blossomed in his finger's wake. "I happen to have influence with the Queen. Perhaps all we'll see is prison." He pulled her closer, her body molding itself to his as he kissed her once again. It felt perfect.

_ You were right, Maric.  _


	18. New Beginnings

A light fog had settled over Gwaren, wrapping the town in its white, billowy embrace. The sun had risen not long before and promised to burn the fog away before too long. The smell of salt and fish hung in the air, as Lhiannon suspected it almost always did. Only when a breeze came from the forest did she suspect the smell of salt and fish fade. It was not an entirely unpleasant smell, just different than what she was used to.

They had held each other close through the night and there was little sleep to be had between the two of them. Fingers ran through hair and caressed skin as the night went on. Little was said, but much was communicated. Lhiannon had finally drifted off to sleep listening to the sound of Loghain's heart through his chest. It beat strong and steady, and as she began to drift toward sleep, its comforting sound became her world.

Loghain had awakened her not long before dawn with a gentle kiss to the skin between her eyes. Lhiannon's eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring into his blue ones, lost in them as she never had been before. She smiled and rose, knowing he would want to begin the journey back to Denerim early. They dressed and prepared their packs before donning their riding leathers and leaving the manor. Cauthrien and Thorne would no doubt be waiting just outside the manor for Loghain's parting instructions.

"Cauthrien, you and Thorne are in charge while I am away. I trust that you will act in my name to the best of your ability," Loghain stated as the last of his packs were secured to his horse by one of the stable boys. "If you need to send word to me, we shall only be in Denerim for a few days. After that, we shall more than likely be at Vigil's Keep."

Cauthrien nodded at Loghain, her face serious. "It shall be done, Your Grace." Loghain held out his hand to his trusted lieutenant, shaking her hand firmly. "Take care, Cauthrien."

"And you, Your Grace." Cauthrien turned her attention to Lhiannon, who stood just off to the side watching the exchange between Loghain and Cauthrien. "My lady, I hope your stay in Gwaren was pleasant. I look forward to seeing you again," she said as she bowed her head to Lhiannon, her voice seemingly _too_ polite.

_ Yes, I bet you do, _ Lhiannon thought, bringing a smile to her face. "Maker watch over you, Ser Cauthrien. You are most welcome to visit Vigil's Keep whenever you like."

"Perhaps I shall, once matters in Ferelden become more stable," Cauthrien said, taking a step back, her eyes moving between Lhiannon and Loghain.

Thorne stepped forward, bowing to Lhiannon as he did so. "My lady, it was an honor to meet you and I hope to see you return to Gwaren soon."

"Your guidance in the matters of court have been most valuable Thorne," Lhiannon stated, sending a glance in Loghain's direction. "Teyrn Loghain could not have a finer seneschal."

Loghain scoffed lightly beside her, but she sensed the humor behind it. "Flatterer. You make Thorne's head swell with such sweet words." He turned toward Thorne, who stood before them waiting for his dismissal. "However, the Commander speaks true. You have performed well before, Thorne, and I trust you will do so again." He held out his hand to Thorne, who warily glanced at it before coming forward to shake it, a grin lighting up his face.

"Thank you, Your Grace. A safe journey to Denerim to you both."

* * *

Lhiannon found the ride back to Denerim far more enjoyable than the ride to Gwaren. They would spend the days riding as they did when they first set out from Denerim: periods of companionable silence broken up by periods of light chatter or deep conversation. When they stopped for the night, they held each other close, taking the first steps down their new road together.

They stopped for the final night on the journey at the small inn past South Reach where they stayed at while on their way to Gwaren. This time, however, Loghain only asked for one room, earning a knowing glance from the proprietor. Instead of eating their meal in the common area of the inn, they took it to their room, content to spend the time in each other's company without distractions or the inquisitive glances of other patrons.

"I'm curious, Loghain," Lhiannon began, breaking up pieces of bread to dip into her stew. "That sword mounted above the fireplace in your office—where did you get that?"

Loghain held up a hand as he finished the mouthful of stew he was chewing. "I took it from the chevalier commander at River Dane. We had fought like savages for what seemed like hours. I finally disarmed him and knocked him to the ground; his helmet had fallen off at some point and I punched him square in the face. It felt so good that I laughed as soon as my fist landed. I nearly broke my hand." Lhiannon watched as a grin played across his face. He reached over and took a drink of ale before he continued.

"When he fell to the ground, I saw that his sword was laying nearby. He tried to roll over and grab it, but I kicked his hand away and got to it first. I put my foot on his chest and shoved his own sword into his neck. After he was dead, I took the sword and his armor as spoils."

"And you still wear his armor to this day."

"Yes. Ironic, isn't it? The 'Hero of River Dane' wearing Orlesian armor. I meant it to be offensive to them."

When they had finished their meal, Lhiannon turned her attention to the small fireplace in their room to light a fire. She sat on the floor in front of it with her eyes closed, basking in the glow and gentle warmth emanating from it. She heard Loghain settle himself beside her a short time later, pulling her toward him to sit between his legs with her back resting against his chest. His arms embraced her and she turned to look up at him. She saw a far off, yet contented look on his face as he watched the flames.

"What is it?" Lhiannon asked with a grin.

"I'm listening," Loghain replied, his eyes still on the flames.

"Listening for what?"

Loghain scoffed lightly, the humor in it evident. "Maric's laugh. For years, I told him magic was not to be trusted; starting from the time we were lost in the Korcari Wilds."

"Why the laughter?"

"He would consider our bond most amusing in that light."

"And do you trust mages now?" she asked, a wry grin on her face.

"You and your magic? With my very life."

She continued to grin at him. "Even my healing magic?"

"Well, there are exceptions. Perhaps I should think again."

Lhiannon brought her lips up to his jaw, kissing it lightly before snuggling into his chest once more. "You _do_ appreciate irony."

Loghain chuckled, then laid her down on the floor next to the fireplace, showing her just how much he trusted and loved her.

* * *

"A _what?"_ __

Lhiannon spat the words out, looking at Loghain with narrowed eyes. She had just all but shoved a servant out of her guest quarters at the palace in Denerim and slammed the door behind her. The servant had a bundle of cloth in her hand that Lhiannon had recognized with dawning horror as a ball gown.

"Yes, a ball," Loghain frowned, "Anora insisted on it as part of the celebrations. She further _insisted_ that we be there to help them celebrate it. There was no talking her out of it, I'm afraid."

A look of horror crossed Lhiannon's face. "A wedding and coronation I can tolerate. It's bad enough that I have to suffer through a sodding parade, but a _ball_ too? Loghain, I can't _dance_. I'd rather face the archdemon again."

Loghain very nearly laughed. This was the bravest woman he had known in years and she was terrified of dancing. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm looking forward to it about as much as you are."

"Still, I think I'd rather take my chances with the archdemon again," she said with displeasure, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Loghain warily. "I suppose _you_ get to wear your fancy armor while I am paraded about in a dress."

"Unfortunately, no," Loghain replied, a look of distaste crossing his features. "Anora insisted that I 'look like a teyrn'—her exact words. She forbade armor, even for the King."

"Misery loves company then. Now I don't feel so ridiculous."

Loghain shrugged and smirked at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. Lhiannon saw that she was not going to get any sympathy from him. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. She playfully swatted his arm and went to open the door to call the servant back with that bloody dress. Before she could open the door, Loghain gently pushed her up against it and kissed her with enough passion to make her knees weak. When they parted, he stroked her cheek and grinned. That glint was back in his eyes.

"Have fun getting your _dress_ fitted," he said playfully. She pushed him out the door, beckoning the servant to come in with that hateful dress. Lhiannon soon found herself behind the dressing screen in her room, pulling on the hateful thing as the servant and seamstresses prepared to work.

The seamstresses stood Lhiannon on a small stool while they fluttered about, pinning, tucking, and sewing the fabric to flatter her curves. She was not very happy with the idea of a sodding ball, but as she saw herself in the mirror she began to relax. Leliana had picked it out, the servant told her. She and Zevran had remained in Denerim after the defeat of the archdemon, as they wanted to be part of the upcoming celebrations. Alistair knew this, the servant explained, and had sought Leliana out, asking her to find something appropriate for Lhiannon.

Before she saw the dress, Lhiannon worried that it would be some Orlesian nightmare, all lace and bows and petticoats. When she finally saw it, she calmed; Leliana had chosen a simple, yet elegant design. It was dark blue velvet and it felt luxurious against her skin. She would definitely have to purchase some velvet to line her armor with for the colder weather. It felt so much better than the scratchy homespun or leather she was used to. The neckline was wide and deep, showing off the top of her cleavage and stopping just shy of her shoulders. It was trimmed in white along the neckline and a white sash wrapped around her waist and down the front. The sleeves were long and full and had white trim at the hem and just above the elbow. She was admiring herself in the mirror when she heard a gasp from the doorway.

"Oh Lhiannon! You look beautiful!" Leliana gushed. She had in her hands a pair of her own shoes for Lhiannon, who looked at them like they were spoiled fish. "Really, Lhiannon, you must stop brooding about this. You are going to be the most exquisite thing at the ball! I wish I could be there. I do so miss fancy dresses and country dancing."

Lhiannon could feel the blush rising on her cheeks. "I feel ridiculous."

"You shouldn't. You look wonderful. You _must_ let me do your hair for you!" Leliana begged.

Lhiannon sighed, shaking her head with exasperation; Leliana would not take no for an answer in this situation. "All right. But no ribbons; and no painting of my face, so don't even ask!"

Clapping her hands gleefully, Leliana ran off, presumably to track down whatever she would need to work with Lhiannon's hair for the festivities that would be taking place the following day. The seamstresses continued their alterations and soon after declared their work done. They brought in a full-length mirror for her to see the full effect. Lhiannon slipped into Leliana's shoes and faced the mirror. She was surprised and rather pleased with the results. Maybe this would not be so bad after all.

* * *

The festivities surrounding the wedding and coronation were as elaborate an affair as could be assembled so soon after the Blight. Alistair and Anora were still not completely comfortable around each other but looked like they were genuinely trying to present a united front and put Ferelden's best interests ahead of their own. Lhiannon could see that it would be a long road for them however, as they had quite a gulf between them in the very recent past.

Alistair was at the head of the gathered masses in the palace courtyard, standing in front of the Chantry priest. His golden plate armor gleamed brightly under the shining sun. Lhiannon had a place in front, the empty place next to her for Loghain. Thankfully, she was allowed to wear her armor with a Grey Warden tunic over it for this part of the day's ceremonies. A few moments later, Loghain appeared with Anora on his arm to walk her down the aisle. He looked radiant in his silverite armor, the wyvern of Gwaren emblazoned on the tunic covering it. He had been looking at Anora, the fatherly love for her clearly evident on his face. Lhiannon could not help but smile broadly at him. They walked slowly up the aisle arm in arm. They finally reached the front and Loghain handed her off to Alistair. They nodded politely at each other—which Lhiannon was glad to see—and Loghain turned to take his place next to Lhiannon.

Alistair and Anora spoke their vows to one another and exchanged rings. Then the diadems of the king and queen were brought out and blessed by the Chantry priest. Alistair and Anora swore fealty to Ferelden and promised to protect it in the Maker's name before the diadems were placed on their heads. They turned toward the assembled crowd, who began to applaud loudly. Ferelden has its new King and Queen at last, taking another step toward putting the Blight behind them. Alistair spoke, his hand raised in the air and his voice ringing out and carrying to all corners of the courtyard.

"My friends, thank you all for joining us today for this special occasion. Anora and I are grateful to you all. We thank you for the sacrifices you made in recent days and pray to the Maker that he will watch over and guide those who did not make it this far." They bowed their heads solemnly for a moment, a hush spreading through those gathered. When he raised his head again, he motioned for the Grey Wardens to step forward. Lhiannon and Loghain came forward and bent down on one knee before the King and Queen.

"Today is not only about Anora and me. We also wish to congratulate the Grey Wardens, who helped make this day possible. Were it not for their steadfast bravery, the Blight would have overtaken all." Alistair turned and beckoned to a Chantry priest standing nearby. She came over to them, a small box held in her hands. The priest opened it, revealing two small silver medals shaped like an ancient sword. Anora and Alistair both took one and approached the Grey Wardens, Alistair to Lhiannon and Anora to Loghain.

"This medal is the Sword of Calenhad, the highest honor that can be given by the Crown. It signifies exceptional valor in battle. It is rendered in the image of Nemetos, Calenhad's great sword," Alistair explained, working the pin behind it into Lhiannon's tunic. He hissed as he ended up poking himself in the finger with the sharp point, earning a small chuckle from Lhiannon and a scoff from Loghain as Anora pinned her medal on his tunic.

Alistair beckoned for the Grey Wardens to rise; they did so to the roaring approval of the crowd. Lhiannon turned to look over at Loghain; he had a look of faint aversion on his face and she laughed to herself. Pomp and circumstance like this definitely did not sit well with the reticent Teyrn.

Anora held up her hand to quiet the crowd and cleared her throat politely. "My friends," she called, her voice carrying through the courtyard. "The time has come to celebrate our hard fought victory and good fortune. Go now, and enjoy yourselves." With that said, the crowd began to disperse into Denerim, undoubtedly heading for the inns and taverns. They would be doing brisk business today. The royal couple turned toward Lhiannon and Loghain. "Come, the both of you," Anora beckoned to them. "The carriages await us."

* * *

The procession wound its way through the streets of Denerim under the bright afternoon sun. Lhiannon's arm felt like it was going to fall off, both from the waving and the weight of her armor. She was tired of the standing and her shattered leg was beginning to ache. The crowds cheered and waved, calling out to her as she passed.

"There's the Hero of Ferelden!"

"She doesn't look like a mage."

"She's much shorter than I thought."

"Will you marry me, My Lady?"

Loghain, of course, found her discomfort to be amusing as he sat in the seat across from her in the carriage designated for the Grey Wardens. He remembered how he felt all those years ago during the victory parade after Meghren's head was placed on a pike outside the palace. He had hated being the center of attention, Maric and Rowan enjoying _his_ discomfort.

"They cheer for you, not me. Some of them would rather see my neck stretched," Loghain said, laying his arms across the back of his seat while a corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk at her.

Lhiannon sat heavily in her seat, shooting Loghain an annoyed look when she saw his smirk. "Oh? And there are those who don't want to see _mine_ stretched?" Loghain looked at her, an eyebrow raised in questioning. "I killed Howe, remember? I automatically gained enemies when I was made Arlessa of Amaranthine. I'm sure he still has sympathizers who would love to see me swinging from a tree somewhere."

"Ah, but you're the Hero of Ferelden."

"And you're the Hero of River Dane who happened to have Howe close to him. I'm sure there are those who would like to try and gain _your_ influence as a Grey Warden. They know that you and I will have to work together and therefore, you will be close to me. Who knows what sort of ideas they would try to put in your head?"

Loghain chuckled at her, the sound a deep rumble. "I'm glad you realize that you now have political enemies." He paused, another smirk crossing his face. "You appear to be a natural politician."

A look of disgust crossed Lhiannon's face and made her nose wrinkle, causing Loghain's smirk to grow larger. "You are taking a great deal of pleasure in my discomfort, are you not?" she accused him, kicking at him with her armored foot.

"Get used to it," he chuckled at her, swatting her foot away. " _Hero_ is a title that is both honorable and tedious."

"Yes, well, I don't know how I'm supposed to get through that damned ball tonight. My leg hurts like bloody hell."

"Shall I call a healer for you, My Lady?" Loghain drawled at her.

" _Shall I call a healer for you, My Lady? "_ she mimicked him, a sneer on her face. "Surely teasing the Hero of Ferelden is a crime of some sort. I _know_ mocking your Warden Commander is grounds for punishment."

Loghain leaned forward toward her, a wicked spark in his eye. "Punishment, you say," his voice low and wicked, his hand rubbing his chin. "I wonder what sort of punishment you have in mind. _Commander._ "

Lhiannon leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest in mock indignation. "I'm sure I can think of something suitably appropriate for such insubordination."

* * *

In a small study off the main ballroom, Lhiannon stood wringing her hands together nervously and pacing back and forth. By peering out the door she could see the comings and goings from the room without actually being seen herself. Soft music flowed from the hall and she could smell the feast that was being set on tables along the wall. Her stomach rumbled; she realized she had not eaten since her morning meal hours ago. She was almost afraid to eat however; she just knew that she would slop something on her dress, most likely the on the white sash. A number Ferelden nobles were here, milling about before the revelry began. Not all had been able to make the journey in the aftermath of the Blight, but there were still a fair number represented. Lhiannon felt herself becoming nervous, pacing the room and wrenching her hands together until they felt clammy. She cursed herself and forced her hands to stop. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she left the study and headed into the ballroom. _More like the wolves lair,_ she groaned to herself.

She did not recognize many of the faces that turned to look at her. Some looked her up and down, their eyes crawling across her skin. Others barely noticed her presence. Lhiannon did see Arl Eamon and Arlessa Isolde and decided she wanted to give them a wide berth. There was something about Isolde that bothered Lhiannon; perhaps it was the way Isolde looked down her nose at anyone without a title. Lhiannon remembered with aversion the first encounter with Isolde outside the windmill in Redcliffe. Granted, Isolde was terrified for her husband and son, but Lhiannon had still received the impression that Isolde thought she was a better class of person than the Grey Warden mage that had agreed to help her. Even after Lhiannon had saved Connor from the desire demon and obtained the sacred ashes that helped Eamon, Isolde barely spoke more than a 'thank you' to her.

Lhiannon spotted Bann Teagan not far away, who gave her a wave and a nod, which she returned with a smile, grateful to find a friendly face in the room. "My Lady," Teagan said as he approached, smiling and taking her hand to place a gentle kiss on it. "It is truly well to see you again."

Lhiannon smiled, giving him a small curtsy. "Lhiannon, please. And you, ser."

"If you are to be Lhiannon, then I am to be Teagan. I never congratulated you on the defeat of the archdemon. It was well done, Lhiannon."

"I hope to never have to face a Blight again. Though I would do anything to protect Ferelden and its people."

Teagan smiled. "And for that, you shall always have my respect. I also understand you've been named Arlessa of Amaranthine and Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden."

Lhiannon rolled her eyes and smirked at him. "I'm sure the Chantry is beside themselves. But yes, I'm the new Arlessa, though I don't know much about noble houses. I do know something about the Grey Wardens though."

Teagan chuckled with her. "Well, let me know if I can assist you in any way. Rainesfere will always be at your side."

She nodded her head, grateful that she had another ally at least. "I certainly will, and I greatly appreciate it."

Teagan leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice so those around them could not hear. "What you did at the Landsmeet, sparing Loghain, seems to have been a good decision after all. I spoke to him earlier; he seems much more like the man I've known for years."

"It certainly was," Lhiannon agreed, casting her eyes about for the Teyrn. She could not find him. "I could not have come this far without his help and I am grateful to him for it."

Placing a hand on Lhiannon's shoulder, Teagan leaned even closer and spoke quietly into her ear. "Eamon was not at all happy with your decision to conscript Loghain. I believe he truly wanted Loghain executed. When Isolde found out, she was absolutely livid. They are also very unhappy that the Queen reinstated his title."

"Executing Loghain would have been a waste, Teagan," Lhiannon explained, scowling at the thought. "The Grey Wardens needed him. As for Loghain's title, the Queen insisted on it. She had good reasons to do so."

"I hope the Queen does; the last thing Ferelden needs is more turmoil. As for conscripting Loghain, I happen to agree with you; at the time I questioned your decision, but it has benefited Ferelden greatly. Well, no matter," Teagan grinned, waving the thought away with his hand. "The important thing is that the Blight is defeated and we can go about restoring Ferelden to greatness again."

A hand reached out and touched her elbow and Lhiannon turned to see Loghain at her side. "May I have a word with the Arlessa, Teagan?"

Teagan nodded at Loghain, then turned again toward Lhiannon. "Of course, Your Grace. It was good to speak to you again, Lhiannon."

"And you, Teagan." Teagan turned and walked to another bann, shaking the man's hand heartily and clapping him on the back.

Lhiannon turned to look at Loghain and nearly had to do a double take as she took him in. He had tied his long hair back at the nape of his neck with a black cord. He wore a fine nobleman's tunic of dark crimson with gold trim and black pants that were tucked into his high boots.

As she appraised him, Loghain took her in as well. She looked more exquisite than he could ever have pictured. Her dark blue dress accentuated her curves and stirred slowly about her as she moved. It bared her neck and the upper part of her chest, her fair skin contrasting the dark fabric. The sash at her waist emphasized how small her figure was. She was adorned in a simple circlet and small silver hoop earrings for jewelry.

She grinned at him. "You _do_ look like a  teyrn."

Loghain scoffed at her. "I feel like a damned fool. Come, the King and Queen wish to greet you before the revelry begins." Loghain began to lead her up to where the King and Queen mingled with other nobles, his hand lightly touching the small of her back. Loghain leaned over to speak into her ear. "You look beautiful."

Lhiannon blushed lightly, which he found charming. "Thank you," she grinned shyly.

"Your dress is lovely."

Lhiannon smiled up at him. "You should probably thank Leliana then; she's the one that picked it out. But I'm glad that you like it."

Loghain lowered his voice and dropped his head closer to her ear, his breath tickling her skin and his voice taking on a wicked tone. "I suspect, however, that it would look lovelier on the floor of my bedchamber."

She looked up at him, an equally wicked look in her eye and a lopsided grin on her face. "Is that a challenge?"

"It is."

"Well then, I must see this for myself before I can judge."

Loghain growled his pleasure in hearing her say that. They were without doubt going to have to leave this affair at their earliest opportunity.

The Queen stood next to the King near the dais, their thrones behind them and the sword that killed the archdemon newly mounted on the wall between them. Alistair had spoken to Anora of his last conversation with the new Arlessa, where she had encouraged him to find common ground with his bride. The time leading up to the defeat of the archdemon had been difficult, with the two of them rarely speaking most days. When they did speak, however, it was mostly to argue and accuse the other of one heinous act or another. After Lhiannon and Loghain had left for Gwaren, Alistair had still been moody, but took Lhiannon's advice to heart and began to find small pieces of common ground with Anora; the need of an heir, for one.

Alistair and Anora both agreed that an heir to Calenhad's line needed to be sired as soon as possible and though that had been awkward at first, it was becoming less so as the weeks passed. Alistair had warned Anora that it was difficult for a Grey Warden to sire children. As a result, they would be speaking to one of Anora's mages in the coming days regarding what help they could provide. Anora knew that if an heir was not conceived soon, Arl Eamon could very well try to have her put aside again. The thought of his past meddling always brought Anora's anger bubbling to the surface.

Anora had also spoken with Alistair about the need to rebuild the parts of Ferelden that were decimated by the Blight and he had wholeheartedly agreed with her plans with barely an argument. They had spoken about Ferelden at length after dinner one evening and Anora found that she had actually enjoyed his company during that time. Alistair had agreed and since that day, common ground was becoming easier to find. It was slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Anora watched as her father found Lhiannon and began to lead her toward where she and Alistair stood. The Queen watched as her father leaned close to Lhiannon's ear, saying something that made the Arlessa turn and smirk at him. Anora had suspected that there was something more than friendship growing between her father and Lhiannon in the days following the defeat of the archdemon; that belief was becoming stronger with each passing moment. She had noticed several times since they arrived in Denerim that when her father looked at Lhiannon, his face would soften and he would occasionally grin at her. Where he spoke curtly to others, his voice was far kinder to her. Before they left for Amaranthine, Anora vowed that she would get to the truth, even if she had to demand it as his sovereign and Queen.

* * *

After the feasting had concluded, Lhiannon stood with Loghain off to the side of the hall. The King saw them standing there and beckoned them forward to join in the first dance of the evening. With a groan, and knowing this hateful experience would be impossible to avoid, she stepped forward with Loghain following close behind. They stood in the line, paired next to the King and Queen for the dance. Loghain stepped forward to Lhiannon before the music began. "Watch me. You'll be fine."

As the music began, Lhiannon watched as Loghain stepped forward, holding his hand out to her. She took it as he spun her around twice, telling her to return to her place as they finished. She did, then found her hands grasped by both Loghain and Alistair with Anora across from her, the four of them moving in a wide circle twice around. They unlinked hands and reformed lines again before Alistair and Anora met in the middle, spinning twice before returning to their place. As they moved for a second set, Loghain came forward to take Lhiannon's hands, moving her in unison with the King and Queen. They repeated the sequence several more times, Lhiannon beginning to feel more confident as they progressed. She had even laughed when she tripped on Loghain's foot, earning an exasperated growl from him. When the song ended, Lhiannon and Loghain bowed to the King and Queen before stepping out of line and moving off toward the side of the room. She turned her head to him as they walked. "I didn't know you could dance."

"Surprised?"

Lhiannon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "To be honest, yes. Very."

Loghain scoffed at her, trying to hide the grin that threatened to spread across his face. They watched as the King and Queen led two long lines of nobles in another popular folk dance, this one much faster and more complicated than the first. The ale and wine were flowing freely at this point of the evening and more than one noble was spotted lying on the floor of the hall after tripping over their own feet. Lhiannon was laughing at the latest Bann who had fallen to the floor when she felt Loghain's hand on her elbow, gently pulling her through the door next to him. When they entered the hallway, he took her by the hand and led her through the palace toward his chambers in the guest wing. Loghain knew the least traveled ways to get there. There would be few others roaming the halls of the castle with the ball going on; still, he did not want to draw unwanted attention and be herded back to the festivities like sheep.

The farther they moved away from the ballroom, the faster they both moved. They had come to a narrow servants' stairway leading up to the next floor when Loghain stopped and pulled Lhiannon close and hungrily kissed her. Their lips and tongues moved quickly against each other, the friction leaving them both breathless and their blood racing, hot and urgent in their veins. After a moment, she broke the kiss and urged him to continue to his chambers, lest they be discovered. They raced up the stairs, hand in hand, and emerged on the floor near Loghain's door.

He led her into his chambers, bolting the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: It's a busy, transitional chapter, but I needed to set up a few things for the next part of the story. I have difficulty with transitional chapters, but perhaps with more practice, they'll get better. ;)_
> 
> _For the dancing, I was thinking Scottish Strathspey—a little livelier than the English dancing, but not too lively to cause Lhiannon to faint with embarrassment. >_


	19. A Dawning Horror

Lhiannon awoke the next morning with the sun warming her bare back. She was snuggled into Loghain's chest and she could hear the steady, strong beating of his heart. She never thought that she would end up here, with Loghain, in his bed, especially at the palace in Denerim. If someone told her just a few months ago that she and Loghain Mac Tir would have fallen in love with each other, she would have thought them lyrium addled. The ways of the Maker were strange indeed.

She quietly slipped out of bed and picked up one of Loghain's discarded shirts on the floor, slipping it on to cover her nakedness. Loghain's bedchamber in the palace had a great double door leading out to a large terrace overlooking the gardens. So as not to awaken him, she silently turned the handle of the door and slipped outside. She left the door open a crack so he could see where she went if he woke up. The day was promising to be bright and warm and she turned her face to the rising sun, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth on her skin.

Her thoughts turned to the ball the night before. She and Loghain had slipped out suddenly, but quietly, not bidding good night to any of the guests or even to the King and Queen. They had other plans in mind and they had focused solely on them. The memory made her grin. She wondered if Alistair and Anora had put two and two together and figured out what had happened to them. They probably had, and Lhiannon wondered in amusement which of their heads spun off their shoulders first. Loghain had been right; her dress did look lovelier on the floor of his bedchamber.

"My shirt has never looked so fine."

Lhiannon turned and saw Loghain leaning on the jamb in the doorway, arms crossed against his bare chest and gazing at her with a look of contentment on his face. His hair was slightly mussed and he had removed the braids at his temples and fingered through the locks. He was wearing only a pair of leather trousers. The old scars on his torso were a slightly lighter shade than his skin. She also saw the more recent ones that were healing, those being slightly red still. She thanked the Maker that that was all he had to show for the trouble they had been through recently. She gave him a broad smile as she walked over to him and he opened his arms to her. She settled in against his chest, breathing in his intoxicating smell and reveling in the warmth of his touch as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"I could get used to this," Lhiannon said as she raised her head to look up at Loghain. He gave her a smile and lowered his lips to hers. It was gentle and sweet, which were two things she never would have expected from him. Reluctantly, he pulled away and settled his chin on top of her head.

"We're going to have to see the King today," he started. "I'm sure we'll be given our orders to go to Vigil's Keep and Amaranthine soon."

"I'm sure we'll also have to answer to him as to why we disappeared from the ball last night. It could make his head spin you know."

Loghain chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest, "I don't plan on discussing such things with my son-in-law, even if he is King. He can figure it out on his own." He sighed and drew her even closer, holding her tightly. He was not ready to leave just yet but knew they had to move along soon before the King started pounding on his chamber doors. He would probably try Lhiannon's first and, not finding her there, would make Loghain's chambers the second stop. No doubt he would be raving as he walked the castle halls. It would be amusing though to see the look on the King's face if he saw them now—Loghain dressed only in trousers and Lhiannon in Loghain's shirt.

Lhiannon looked up at him, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. She backed out of his arms and removed his shirt, standing naked before him. "I'm sure we have a few moments before we have to leave." She grabbed the laces of his trousers and pulled him back toward the bed. He did not resist.

* * *

Not long after, Lhiannon and Loghain appeared in the King and Queen's private study. Lhiannon had barely made it back to her quarters to dress when one of the servants arrived with the summons.

"Very well," Lhiannon told the servant. "Go summon Teyrn Loghain and have him meet us there as well." The servant bowed and left.

Lhiannon was leaving her suite just as Loghain was passing by her rooms. Both of them were in their armor and new Grey Warden tunics, their weapons sheathed and within reach. They walked together toward the study, ready to receive the King's orders.

It was the Queen who was waiting for them when they arrived, seated at an ornate desk. She motioned to the two chairs across from the desk, where Lhiannon and Loghain directed themselves. "I apologize that Alistair could not be here to send you off, but he had urgent business to attend to this morning. An ambassador has just arrived from the Free Marches and wishes to discuss new trade agreements and what help they can provide to Ferelden in recovering from the Blight. It will be good practice for him."

Anora beckoned a young woman, heavily armored, into the chamber. Her name was Mhairi and she had been sent by the Seneschal of Vigil's Keep to accompany Lhiannon and Loghain there. The Seneschal requested that they come as soon as possible as the Grey Wardens from Orlais had just arrived and were looking forward to helping their Ferelden brothers and sisters rebuild their order. This, of course, set Loghain to grumbling about the damned Orlesians once again. After a moment of grumbling, Anora turned to Mhairi.

"Would you please wait outside, Mahiri? I need to speak with the Teyrn and Warden Commander for a few moments."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Mhairi said, bowing to the Queen before leaving the chamber and closing the door behind her. Anora watched as her father and Lhiannon followed Mhairi's progress from the room. Both of them had neutral looks on their faces. Anora quickly studied her father's features as he turned back toward her, his eyes lighting on Lhiannon for a brief moment. The perpetual scowl on his face was definitely softer this morning.

One of the Queen's ladies, Vivian, had observed her father leading a lady through the darkened halls of the castle last night, ducking toward a servants' stairway when he thought he heard footsteps in the halls. Vivian watched from the shadows as the Queen's father pulled the lady close and kissed her; not a chaste kiss either. This intrigued Anora and she asked Vivian if she knew whom the mysterious lady with her father was. Vivian described the woman as one with dark hair and a long, dark dress trimmed in white with a white sash. Anora knew then that the woman with her father was none other than the Hero of Ferelden herself.

Anora had given a great deal of thought to this development, both immediately after the defeat of the archdemon and after Vivian's observation from last night. Her father had not fancied any woman since her mother died; not that she was aware of anyway. He had thrown himself into duty since becoming a widower. King Maric had tried talking him into taking a wife again, but he had never done so. Anora reconciled herself to the fact that her father had decided that duty to the King and Ferelden was more important than any woman.

Now it appeared that he found someone special. The Hero of Ferelden... _an interesting choice_ , she thought. It was not that the Queen did not like Lhiannon; not at all. Anora respected and admired Lhiannon for everything she had done for Ferelden. She had spared her father's life when others wanted to see him dead. She supported Anora in keeping the throne, even if it meant marrying another Theirin. All these things made it hard for Anora to oppose this blossoming relationship. If her father cared for this woman, she would support him. It did not mean, however, that she could not make them squirm a little for not being direct with her.

Once Mhairi secured the door behind her, Anora looked at Lhiannon and Loghain warily for a moment. "You two left the ball early last night. You must have been very…tired." Lhiannon could feel her face turning red and willed it to stop, to no avail. Loghain looked at the Queen in stony silence.

"One of my ladies saw the two of you sneaking through the halls of the palace last night. She mentioned to me this morning how she saw my father and a young woman together heading toward his chambers." Anora turned to look directly at Lhiannon. "She wanted to know who you were, Commander. I didn't know whom she was talking about until she described your clothing to me. That's when I realized it was you.

"I will ask _you_ this, since I know I will not receive a straight answer from my father. What, exactly, is going on between the two of you?"

"Anora!" Loghain spat, the annoyance clearly evident in his voice. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?"

Anora turned her stony gaze to her father. "I will command your silence, Father, if you interrupt me again." Loghain looked like he wanted to breathe fire at his own daughter, his anger was becoming so great. He stayed silent, however. Lhiannon felt as if she were a rabbit caught in a snare.

Lhiannon looked at the Queen's stony face and nearly laughed at how much like she resembled her father just now. Laughing, however, would be highly inappropriate; the Queen was waiting for her response. Lhiannon's mind whirled with how she would say it, but in the end, thought simplicity would be best.

"I love him, Your Majesty," Lhiannon said shrugging her shoulders and splaying her hands out in front of her. "I don't think I can say it more simply than that."

Lhiannon saw Loghain shift in his chair out of the corner of her eye. He looked both annoyed and uncomfortable with this whole conversation. He held up a hand to Anora. She turned to look at her father, her face a well-practiced mask of neutrality.

"Is it true? You love her?" Anora asked him.

Loghain let his hand fall back to his lap, holding Anora's gaze with his own. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, the small noise the only thing audible in the room. "Yes," he simply said, shifting in his chair slightly.

"Why did you not tell me this earlier, Father?" Anora asked, her voice softening slightly. "When I asked you at Fort Drakon?"

Lhiannon turned to Loghain; he could see the questions on her face. He shifted in his chair again, running his hand through his hair and grimacing. "I could barely admit it to myself then, Anora. How was I to tell you?"

"You knew then?" Lhiannon asked, raising her brows at Loghain. He watched one corner of her mouth turn up in a smirk, which she tried to cover with her hand.

"Must you both gang up on me?" he said, exasperated at both of them. "I need not be scolded like a child nor interrogated like a criminal." _Women and their need to talk about these things, Maker help me._

"I think that as your daughter, I have a right to know what is important in my father's life." Anora sat back in her chair, her face softening further as she looked at her father. "Father, you know you are the most important thing in the world to me. I wish to see you well. If the Commander pleases you, then I will accept that. Though I cringe at the gossip this will create in court."

"Anora, you know full well that I could not care less what those at court think of me. This is no different," Loghain said, rolling his eyes at her.

Anora turned to look at Lhiannon, a guarded expression on her face. "You _will_ be good to my father, Commander. There is always room for one more in the dungeon."

Lhiannon gave the Queen a small smile. "I will, Your Majesty."

Anora stood, indicating that their private audience was concluding. "Now, if I were to two of you, I would make haste for Vigil's Keep as soon as possible. Once the King finds out about your relationship, he will likely want your heads on pikes." Lhiannon heard Loghain scoff next to her, holding his hand out for Anora to take. She looked up at her father as she took it. "It's a fine mess you have left me, dealing with the King in this matter."

* * *

Lhiannon and Loghain had quickly assembled what needed to be taken to Vigil's Keep before meeting Mhairi at the stables. Stable boys were preparing the horses for the trip as Lhiannon and Loghain approached. Mhairi saw them coming and gave a short bow to Lhiannon.

"Commander, we shall be ready to ride for Vigil's Keep soon."

"Very good, Mhairi." Lhiannon indicated to Loghain. "This is my second in command, Warden Loghain."

A dark shadow crossed Mhairi's face as Lhiannon watched. Mhairi gave Loghain a barely perceptible nod. "Warden," she spat, the disdain clear in her voice.

Loghain scoffed at the young prospective Warden. "Am I to assume then that my presence offends you?"

" _Everything_ about you offends me, _Warden_ ," Mhairi growled, her eyes staring into Loghain's in an obvious challenge.

"You are certainly not the first to take such offense," he said to her, his voice as cool as his returning stare. "I daresay you shall not be the last either."

"I didn't think betrayers and regicides were welcomed into the Grey Wardens," she spat at him. "The Grey Wardens deserve better than the likes of you."

Lhiannon thought Loghain looked both amused and annoyed with Mhairi's outburst. "How very much like the King sounded. You have much to learn, girl."

Mhairi looked to speak again but Lhiannon held up her hand to silence her. "Mhairi, the Grey Wardens accept anyone into their ranks that they feel can help them best defeat the darkspawn and the Blight. Do you know much about Grey Warden history?"

The young soldier looked at Lhiannon with confusion on her face. "No, Commander, I don't know very much."

"The man who recruited me and King Alistair into the Grey Wardens was a thief and murderer. I helped a blood mage escape from Kinloch Hold. What Loghain has done is well known. The point, Mhairi, is that once you go through the Joining, what happened before then is simply the past. A new life begins after the Joining."

Mhairi's face twisted in a grimace. "Murderers? Regicides? The Grey Wardens accept these people?"

"Redemption can be found in service, Mhairi. The man that recruited me, Duncan, became a well respected figure within the Grey Wardens. He found redemption there. I can tell you that Loghain has become a fine Grey Warden and I would not be here without his help. We are far from perfect; but I think that also makes us strive to be better."

"But, Commander…"

Lhiannon held up a hand, her face becoming hard. "Enough, Mhairi. If Warden Loghain's presence is so offensive to you, then you do not have to become a Grey Warden. No one will look upon you any less if you decide you don't want to join."

Mhairi shook her head quickly. "No, Commander. I _do_ want to join the Grey Wardens. Your defeat of the archdemon is what drove me to seek the Grey Wardens out. It is something I feel I _must_ do." She cast her eyes down briefly before raising them to meet Lhiannon's again, her resolve set in them. "I look forward to fighting at your side, Commander."

* * *

"This is strange," Mhairi commented, her eyes narrowing and glancing around warily. The three of them had been on the road for several days and were looking forward to sleeping in warm beds and eating hot meals once they arrived at Vigil's Keep. Even Loghain was willing to tolerate the presence of Orlesians if it meant warm blankets and hot stew.

"What is strange?" Lhiannon asked, moving her hand toward the hilt of her sword. A feeling of wrongness began to tickle at her senses. The birds had stopped chattering long ago and even the rustling of the leaves in the trees had taken an ominous tone. She noticed that Loghain had also moved his hands near his weapon and shield, readying himself for as yet unseen predators.

"We're nearly at Vigil's Keep, yet there is no one here to welcome us," Mhairi said, anxiousness and confusion in her voice. "They knew we would be arriving soon. There are usually sentries posted outside the compound."

"What, the Orlesians couldn't be bothered to stir themselves? Shocking." Loghain grumbled quietly. Something began to tickle at his Grey Warden senses though, causing him to pull his shield and sword into fighting position. Lhiannon had felt it too, and she pulled her sword from her scabbard.

"Commander, what is it?" Mhairi asked. As soon as she spoke, their attention was drawn toward the chaotic sounds of several people running from the direction of Vigil's Keep. Closely pursuing them were a number of darkspawn.

"Take them down!" Lhiannon shouted as she buried her sword Spellweaver into the nearest darkspawn. A number of the creatures had burst forth from the compound and immediately began to attack. The Grey Wardens and Mhairi made short work of them however and when the last darkspawn fell, they turned to the fleeing individuals to question them. They learned that darkspawn had invaded Vigil's Keep and that the Orlesian Grey Wardens had not sensed them until the creatures were nearly on top of them. By then it was far too late to organize any sort of resistance. These darkspawn were acting in an organized manner, something that should not be happening with the archdemon destroyed.

"Could something be leading them?" Mhairi asked Lhiannon, kicking a dead genlock with her boot and scowling at it in disgust.

"I don't see how. The archdemon is dead. Darkspawn scatter to the four winds without an archdemon to lead them."

"If there isn't an archdemon to lead them," Loghain began, rubbing his chin in thought, "then what is? Darkspawn are barely capable of basic industry, let alone trying to organize themselves."

"I don't understand how the Orlesians didn't sense them sooner. There were about a dozen Wardens here with some soldiers," Mhairi explained.

"Let's move on," Loghain said, holding his sword and shield at the ready. "We need to get to Vigil's Keep to see what has happened there."

When they arrived at the fortress, darkspawn were everywhere. They fought their way through masses of them, seeing bodies of the dead as they progressed further and further into the fortress. Crates of weapons and supplies were overturned and in some cases burning. Acrid smoke filled the air; Lhiannon recognized the smell of charred darkspawn flesh and corruption. She also sensed magical forces in the air.

"Be cautious," she quietly warned Loghain and Mhairi. "I sense magic; I don't know if there is a mage here or darkspawn emissaries."

"Let's hope for a mage," Mhairi commented quietly.

Another group of darkspawn emerged from a side passage and fell on them immediately. Lhiannon cast several fire spells as Loghain and Mhairi slashed their way through the ranks. Several of the creatures broke off and began to run up a side stairway, Loghain close behind in pursuit. As he reached a landing at the top of the stairs, he saw a male mage casting fire spells at a group of darkspawn that had attempted to surround him. Several dead bodies lay around the mage, still sending up tendrils of acrid smoke. Loghain dispatched the remaining darkspawn on the landing and turned to regard the mage and the devastation around him. Loghain noticed that one of the bodies burning next to the mage was not a darkspawn, but a templar. His brow raised in questioning as he looked up at the mage. The mage had followed Loghain's stare and quickly turned to regard him.

"I didn't do it," the mage sputtered, holding up his hands in supplication and nervously watching the heavily armored Loghain and his bloodied sword. "Though he did make an amusing little gurgling sound when he died." He paused, looking at Loghain warily. "You're not a templar, are you?"

"I don't remember accusing you of any such thing. And I'm hardly a templar," Loghain commented, lowering his sword but keeping it ready in case he needed it. He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs behind him and turned to see Lhiannon and Mhairi come through the doorway, their swords dripping dark ichor. Lhiannon came up next to Loghain and looked at the mage, her eyes going wide. The mage's eyes went from Loghain to Lhiannon and also went wide.

"Lhi?" he asked in disbelief.

"Andy?"

"You know him?" Loghain asked cautiously, turning to Lhiannon. Her face held an astonished look on it.

"Yes, I do know him. Quite well, in fact. We both studied magic at Kinloch Hold. This is Anders." Lhiannon turned to Anders, introducing him to both Loghain and Mhairi. Anders bowed his head in greeting. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Andy, what are you doing here?" Lhiannon asked. Her eyes suddenly narrowed when she saw the dead templar among the darkspawn. "You didn't escape again, did you?"

Anders ran a hand over his head, looking down at his feet in embarrassment. "Well, kind of. The templar was taking me back to Kinloch Hold when the darkspawn attacked. Now he's dead. It's a shame really. I feel so bad."

"I'm sure you do," Lhiannon remarked sarcastically.

"Well, now that you're here, I feel ever so much better," Anders said, attempting to brush the dirt off his robes. "Disgusting creatures. I just bought this robe and look at it now; I'll never get their blood and fetid stink off of it." He brought his gaze back to Lhiannon. "I'd be happy to help you fight the darkspawn, Lhi. Do you need a hand?"

"Is your healing magic better than hers?" Loghain asked, raising an eyebrow at Lhiannon.

"Oh, going to start that again, are we?" Lhiannon scoffed, giving Loghain a gentle push on his breast plate. "Insufferable man."

Anders turned to look at Lhiannon. "You haven't been working on your healing magic? I _had_ better come along before you kill someone."

Lhiannon could hear Loghain chuckling beside her. She rolled her eyes and looked at Anders. "Please, don't encourage him."

* * *

The continued their way through Vigil's Keep, battling more darkspawn and eventually finding Oghren, of all people. While Lhiannon was happy to see her friend, the others in her group were less than enthusiastic about it, especially when Oghren's eyes began crawling all over Mhairi's figure. Lhiannon was somewhat surprised to hear Oghren say he wanted to try his hand at being a Grey Warden, but since their numbers were still few, she welcomed anyone who wanted to join. Loghain felt his stomach roll at the thought, and smell of, Oghren and his vile dwarven ale again. If Oghren started singing dwarven drinking songs again, Loghain swore to the Maker he would put his sword through the dwarf's gullet.

As they neared a door leading outside, they heard the labored breathing of an injured man. Mhairi ran forward and found a gravely injured solder she knew from Redcliffe. The soldier said the seneschal ordered a counterattack on the darkspawn after the initial attack. During the exchange, they learned something that made Lhiannon's blood run cold.

One of them could talk.

"A _talking_ darkspawn?" Lhiannon asked the soldier. "Wonderful. What can you tell us of this creature?"

"It has powerful magic, Commander." The soldier paused as a fit of coughing overtook him, fine droplets of blood spraying out of his mouth. "It went after the seneschal. You must help him…" He took a hitching breath and as he exhaled, blood began to trickle out of his mouth. His head dropped back as his lifeless eyes stared toward the ceiling.

"I will avenge you," Mhairi swore, gently reaching forward and closing the soldier's eyes. "We will find this talking darkspawn and slay it."

Lhiannon cautiously opened the door to the outside, peering around the edge to see how many darkspawn they would be contending with. The taint told her that there were several out there; not an extraordinary number of them, but enough to be concerning. As she looked about, she saw a man in heavy chain armor bound and forced to his knees, a hurlock behind him holding a vicious blade to his throat. There was another darkspawn standing in front of them, holding a terrified soldier by the throat; they all heard the creature's raspy, broken voice from their vantage point. As they watched in mute horror, the creature turned and threw the soldier over the edge, his screams abruptly ending a brief moment later. Lhiannon heard Mhairi's quiet gasp from behind her.

"That must be the seneschal they are holding," Loghain muttered quietly. Lhiannon heard the seneschal responding indignantly to the darkspawn in front of him.

"Come, we need to help him," Lhiannon beckoned to the others, who followed her out the door and onto the roof. The seneschal spotted Lhiannon out of the corner of his eye at the same time the talking darkspawn did.

"Commander," he said, his voice raspy.

The darkspawn turned to regard Lhiannon and Loghain, motioning toward the darkspawn around it. "This one wants the Grey Wardens captured. The others can die." As soon as the words were out of its mouth, the darkspawn attacked.

Loghain and Mhairi moved to draw the darkspawn away from the seneschal, swords cutting a path of destruction through their ranks. Lhiannon ran forward and cut the ropes binding the seneschal's hands behind his back. He jumped up and hastily pulled a dagger from his boot, joining the others in fighting the darkspawn. Flames were shooting out of Anders' hands while Loghain was systematically running darkspawn through with his sword. Lhiannon was using both steel and magic to fight the creatures, occasionally healing the others as best she could.

In several minutes time, it was over. The darkspawn lay dead or dying around them, Loghain checking each one and plunging his sword into any surviving creatures. Lhiannon walked up to where the talking darkspawn lay. She hunkered down next to it, looking at its strange face and clothing with a mixture of fascination and revulsion. It resembled a hurlock, but its skin was a pale grayish-white with large red patches. Instead of the usual mishmash of armor darkspawn usually wore, this one appeared to have a complete set of well-crafted chain armor. She had never seen a darkspawn like this one before and the sight made her blood run cold.

"It called itself, 'The Withered'," a raspy voice said from behind her.

Lhiannon stood and turned to face the seneschal. He looked a few years younger than Loghain, but had gray hair and a square, pleasant face.

"I can see why it did. Nasty creature," Lhiannon agreed.

"I am Seneschal Varel," he said, holding out his hand to Lhiannon. "Thank you for your help. I owe you all my life." She shook his offered hand and nodded.

"I'm sorry we didn't arrive sooner," Lhiannon said, looking at the carnage around her. Loghain had rejoined her, he and Varel introducing themselves with a firm handshake. Varel looked out over the grounds of the fortress and noticed riders in the distance, headed directly for Vigil's Keep.

"I see riders are approaching the gates," Varel sighed wearily. "Let us go see if these guests are more friendly than the last."

 


	20. Rebuilding the Fereldan Grey

Lhiannon, Loghain, and Varel walked out of the fortress toward the gates to greet their guests, the others walking just behind them. Lhiannon caught a flash of gleaming gold armor and knew right away who at least one of their visitors was. Whether this was a good sign or not, she was unsure. As the guests approached, Lhiannon bent down onto one knee, her head bowed in respect to the approaching King. A quick glance to her right saw Loghain also down on one knee, his joint popping loudly as it bent. Lhiannon quickly shot a glance at him with an eyebrow raised and fought to keep a smirk off her face.

"Must you snicker like a child?" Loghain whispered in exasperation. Lhiannon scoffed at him, then turned her attention toward the King. One of the templars accompanying him had continued walking past the group and into the fortress, barely giving anyone a second glance.

Alistair looked at the dead darkspawn around them before motioning for Lhiannon and Loghain to rise. "Looks like I arrived too late to help. I do miss the whole darkspawn killing thing. Helps you burn off some anger." He turned to Varel, pointedly ignoring Lhiannon and Loghain. "What is the situation here?"

Varel sighed wearily. "The Grey Wardens from Orlais arrived not long ago, but are either dead or missing after the attack. The darkspawn fell upon us so quickly that there was little time to react."

"Missing?" Alistair asked incredulously. "Did the darkspawn take them prisoner? Do the darkspawn even _do_ that? I didn't think they were bright enough for such things."

Varel shook his head. "I don't know, Your Majesty. All I know is that we cannot account for all of the Grey Wardens. We shall continue our efforts to find them."

Alistair looked at Lhiannon and scoffed loudly, his face hard as stone. "Well, at least you have the Hero of Ferelden here."

"It's good to see you, Your Majesty," Lhiannon said as she bowed her head to him. A pit suddenly formed in her stomach when she could feel his growing bitterness through the taint. _He knows,_ Lhiannon thought to herself. _Maker be merciful._

"I'm sorry I can't stay to help you kill the darkspawn," Alistair said, his voice as cold as the stare he received from Loghain. "You're going to be on your own for the time being. Do what you can to bolster your numbers, especially since some of the Orlesian Wardens are unaccounted for." He glared at Loghain for a brief moment before turning back toward Lhiannon. "Commander, I would speak to you in private. _Now._ " He turned and walked toward the gate, Lhiannon following close behind.

Varel turned to Loghain, his brows raised in confusion as he watched the King and the Commander walk off. "What has the Commander done to earn the ire of His Majesty?" he asked quietly.

Loghain scoffed at Varel, watching as Lhiannon and Alistair stopped and began to converse, their gestures quickly becoming heated. "I am the topic of that conversation."

Varel watched as the King pointed at Lhiannon, who glared at him and refused to give any ground. Whatever they were discussing, it was clearly angering both of them. "Why would you be the topic of their conversation?"

Loghain crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching the exchange between Alistair and Lhiannon warily. "Because the King disapproves of her association with me. Vehemently."

* * *

"You couldn't even tell me yourself? I had to hear it from _Anora_?" Alistair spat at Lhiannon, red splotches blooming high on his cheekbones. As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Alistair had whirled about on Lhiannon, looming over her in his anger. "What could you possibly be thinking, Lhiannon? That man is a disgusting excuse for a Grey Warden _and_ Teyrn. And you're _fucking_ him?"

Lhiannon felt her own anger begin to rise. "You came all this way just to berate me?"

"I had hoped to meet with the Grey Wardens from Orlais, but it appears the darkspawn got to them first. But yes, I also came here to deal with _you_."

Lhiannon shook her head in disbelief. "What about the ambassador from the Free Marches? Did you just up and leave him? How could you do that?"

Alistair looked at her indignantly. "Do you think me a fool? No, we concluded our negotiations rather quickly—there wasn't much to discuss that wasn't already in place. When he left, I came at a forced march. Don't change the subject, Lhiannon."

She glared at him with narrowed eyes. "And just what _is_ the subject, exactly?"

"We're talking about how you could have brought yourself so low as to rut with _him_ like a bloody animal!" Alistair snarled at her, pointing toward Loghain in the distance.

Lhiannon took a step toward Alistair, feeling the rage inside her threatening to boil over. "I don't have to justify my relationship with him to you, Alistair."

"You will if I command it as your King," he snapped, holding his chin up defiantly.

Lhainnon looked at him in angry disbelief. Her eyes narrowed at him. "And you would do that? Would command me to explain why I love Loghain to _my King_?" She watched Alistair flinch as the spoke Loghain's name to him. "You have some nerve, _Your Majesty._ "

"It was bad enough that you invoked the Right with him. Then I had to watch him hold his 'vigil' over you at Fort Drakon. I thought I had seen it all when Anora went behind my back and made him Teyrn again." Alistair turned and took several steps away, fists shaking in anger. He whirled about and charged up to Lhiannon again, pointing in the direction of Loghain once more as he did so. "But then to hear that you were _fucking_ him was more than I could stand!"

Lhiannon closed the distance between them, her chin held high in indignation and anger growing. "Alistair, I am not going to stand here and let you speak to me like a sailor in an Antivan whorehouse. I do not appreciate your vulgarity."

The King made no notice of her reaction. "It wouldn't be as bad if you were simply fucking him, but to hear that you're _in love_ with him? I can't believe you sunk so low. Are you working to be his  teyrna so that when he tries to usurp the throne again, you'll be his queen?" The vulgarity and acid in his voice were more than Lhiannon could stand; she did not realize she slapped Alistair until her hand was following through after contacting his cheek, the stinging running up her arm and the sound of the crack echoing off the walls next to them. Angry tears began to fall from Lhiannon's eyes and she swiped them away with her fingers. She watched as Alistair brought a hand up to his cheek, covering the red welt that was quickly growing there. His eyes widened and the anger began to drain from his face to be replaced by a bitter shame. He tore his eyes from Lhiannon's and stared down at the ground, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Alistair, you are the dearest friend that I have. To hear you say such things breaks my heart," Lhiannon growled, the tears continuing to fall from her eyes. "I know he's not who _you_ would have wanted me to choose, but that's _my_ decision to make." She caught his gaze as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks. He quickly looked away again as he saw her tears continuing to fall. "I love him, Alistair. I can't explain how it happened, other than it _did_. Neither one of us expected it.

"I won't defend his past actions, Alistair. But I will defend him in this respect: he is a fine Grey Warden and I would not have been able to make it this far without his help. For that, I shall always be grateful to him. I wasn't alone in defeating the Blight; he was right there with me. You should think upon that the next time you wish to thank the Grey Wardens for saving your kingdom from the archdemon and the Blight."

Alistair continued to rub his reddened cheek, finally bringing his gaze up to meet Lhiannon's. She could see the dampness in his eyes as well. He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, releasing it before speaking again. "Lhiannon, I apologize for how I spoke to you. It was rude of me to do so in such a manner." Lhiannon nodded to him, still wiping the tears off her face.

"I can't believe you slapped me," he said, scoffing lightly. He watched a corner of her mouth turn up in a slight grin. "I could have you executed for that, you know."

Lhiannon's grin grew slightly wider. She sniffled and took a deep, cleansing breath before speaking. "Well, you could have me executed, but that would leave Loghain in charge of the Grey Wardens. I knew you wouldn't want that, so I knew I could get away with it."

"Lhiannon," he began, coming forward and grasping her shoulders gently. "In all seriousness, I do want to see you happy. I would rather it not be with him, to be perfectly honest. I don't like him. I don't _have_ to like him."

With a scoff, Lhiannon brought her hand up to Alistair's cheek, sending a small amount of healing magic into it. "I'm not asking you to like him, Alistair. I'm asking you to accept the fact that I love him. I know you don't like it, but it's my decision."

Alistair jerked his head in the direction of Loghain, Varel, and the others. "Well, I think we've given them enough of a spectacle," Alistair sighed, releasing Lhiannon's shoulders and turning to walk back toward the others. They were still watching the King and Warden Commander with varying degrees of wariness and amusement. As Alistair and Lhiannon rejoined them, the lady templar that accompanied Alistair to Vigil's Keep suddenly came striding out of the fortress and marched up to Anders, grasping him by the arm and jerking him away. "Hey, you'll dirty my robes!" he protested, nearly tripping as the templar dragged him toward the King. The templar scowled at him and turned to Alistair.

"This man is a dangerous criminal and apostate, Your Majesty. The templars were bringing him back to the Circle for justice."

"Justice," Anders scoffed. "What you sodding templars know of justice can fit into a thimble with room to spare. It was the darkspawn that killed the templar in the fortress…oh, I give up. You won't listen to me or believe me anyhow, so I won't waste my breath."

The templar jerked Anders' arm, causing Anders to yelp as the metal of her gauntlets began to pierce his robes and the skin beneath. "I will see your neck stretched, murderer."

Alistair turned from the templar to regard Lhiannon, a twinkle in his eye and a brow raised. "Well, _I_ really don't have much to say about this, unless you do Commander."

Lhiannon grinned. She loved giving the templars grief and this was no exception. A little entertainment after what had just transpired would make her feel better. "I could always use another mage as a Grey Warden." She turned and walked to the templar, prying the woman's hands off Anders' arm. "You may remove your hands from him now. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription for Anders. He will be a Grey Warden."

The templar was incensed and looked at Lhiannon with murder in her eyes. She turned and began to plead with Alistair. "No. I won't allow this. Your Majesty, this mage is a criminal and must be punished."

"Ah, Your Majesty. You do know that by 'punished', she means 'killed', right?" Anders pointed out.

Alistair shrugged his shoulders, the metal of his armor scraping against one another as the plates moved. "The last I knew, Grey Wardens could invoke the Right as they saw fit. I'll allow it."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," the templar agreed reluctantly, glaring at Lhiannon before she turned and stomped off. Anders breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Lhi. I think." Lhiannon shrugged her shoulders at him. "Don't thank me yet."

Alistair turned to Varel once more. "Well, now that that's settled, I'll be taking my leave. I think I shall visit Amaranthine before going back to Denerim."

Varel bowed to Alistair. "We have had great losses, Your Majesty, and must now deal with the survivors and replenish the Grey Wardens' numbers. I thank you for coming."

Alistair nodded, turning toward Lhiannon and Loghain. He strode forward and put a hand on Lhiannon's shoulder. "It's up to you now to deal with the remnants of the Blight and keep Ferelden safe. I have every confidence in you. I'll be in contact soon. Maker watch over you." The King then turned to Loghain, a hard glare in his eyes. "Do you have any message you would like to convey to your daughter?"

Loghain turned his cool eyes to the King. "You may tell her that, as always, she is in my thoughts." With a curt nod, Alistair turned and joined the retreating templars.

"Commander, we have urgent matters to discuss."

Lhiannon tore her eyes off Alistair's retreating form and turned to face Varel, who motioned for them to head toward the fortress. "What sort of matters?"

"First off, I want you to know that as seneschal, I will help you rule your lands. I know that being Arlesa is completely new to you and I will provide any help and advice you require. Second, we must perform the Joining and add to the Grey Warden's ranks. Once again, Ferelden has all of two Grey Wardens."

Lhiannon and Loghain followed Varel up the steps to the main doors of Vigil's Keep. He opened the doors and motioned them inside to the main audience chamber. Lhiannon looked around her new fortress. Floor to ceiling bookcases lined the walls and in some niches, paintings of scowling Howes looked down upon her. Varel led them to the back of the chamber where he opened a set of cabinet doors and brought out several vials of darkspawn blood and a simple chalice in which to place them. Lhiannon and Loghain stood behind Varel as he prepared for the Joining. Once the wine and darkspawn blood were mixed, Varel handed the chalice to Lhiannon before he turned to Oghren, Mhairi, and Anders and began to speak the words of the ritual.

"Join us, brothers and sister. Join us in the shadows, where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be forsworn; and should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day, we shall join you."

Oghren stepped forward first, grumbling about the chalice being the sampler size and wondering if they were making fun of his height. Lhiannon and Loghain both rolled their eyes.

"The size doesn't matter, Oghren," Lhiannon sighed with exasperation as she handed him the chalice.

"Funny, that's exactly what Felsi said the first time I…"

"Oghren! Drink the damn blood," Lhiannon growled. _One-track mind._

Oghren drained the chalice in one gulp, belching loudly before falling over into a snoring bundle on the floor. "He lives, Commander," Varel said, relief in his voice. Lhiannon picked up the empty chalice and handed it to Varel.

After preparing the chalice again, Lhiannon turned to Anders and handed it to him. Anders was visibly nervous about the ordeal, telling Varel that if he ends up on a Ravaini bound ship in two weeks with a tattoo on his forehead, it would be his fault. Lhiannon held her breath as Anders drank the blood, praying to the Maker that her friend would survive. Anders' eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to the floor in a heap. He was breathing heavily though and Lhiannon let loose the breath she had not realized she was holding.

It was finally Mhairi's turn for the Joining. She had been looking forward to this moment since the Grey Wardens first approached her. She took the chalice and drank; Lhiannon watched as Mhairi began to sputter and choke, her face twisting in pain as her knees began to buckle. Mhairi fell forward and convulsed for a moment before both her breathing and pain stilled. "Oh Mhairi," Lhiannon whispered, anguish in her voice. She crouched down, placing her hand on Mhairi's cheek. "Maker watch over you," Lhiannon whispered softly.

Varel stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Lhiannon's shoulder. "I shall prepare a pyre for her, Commander. The Orlesians set up a small memorial outside to commemorate those who do not survive the Joining. I shall have her name inscribed on it."

"Thank you, Varel."

* * *

After the Joining ceremony, Lhiannon met two others who would be helping run Amaranthine with her. The first was Mistress Woolsley from Weisshaupt, a stern looking woman with her hair tied back into a severe bun. The second was Captain Garavel, a man not much older than Lhiannon who was commander of the army in Amaranthine. Both gave her an update regarding the recent problems in the arling concerning the main road from Denerim to Amaranthine and the discovery of an entrance to the Deep Roads in the countryside that was teeming with darkspawn.

When the briefing was concluded, Lhiannon turned to Loghain, who had been scanning one of the bookshelves along the wall. "Come, take a walk with me," Lhiannon suggested. "I need some fresh air after all of this." Loghain returned the book he was holding to the shelf and followed Lhiannon outside.

"You have been here before, yes?" Lhiannon asked Loghain once they were outside. The fresh air felt wonderful and she felt some of her weariness drain away. She felt as if she could sleep for a month.

"It has been some time, but yes."

"Do you know of some place private? I just want to sit for awhile without interruptions." Loghain led her to a corner of the compound where a statue of Andraste looked down over a small bench. They both sat, Lhiannon giving a great sigh as she did so.

"How do you do it?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"Run an entire teyrnir? I've only been here one day and I can barely keep the arling together."

Loghain chuckled, removing one of his gauntlets and placing it on the bench beside him. He picked up one of Lhiannon's hands and removed her gauntlet, taking her hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. "You need capable, trustworthy people around you to whom you can delegate duties. Varel seems very capable. He will help you a great deal."

"I'd also appreciate any advice you may have," Lhiannon said quietly. "It would mean a great deal to me."

"You shall have it. You need only ask."

"Thank you, Loghain."

"You slapped the King," Loghain said, his voice both amused and disbelieving. "I have wanted to do that myself on more than one occasion. I daresay that I am jealous."

Lhiannon sighed, the sound melancholy as they sat on the bench. She shrugged. "I didn't realize I did it until my hand started to sting. I shouldn't have slapped him though. I couldn't help it; he was saying some very vulgar things."

"Perhaps he needed it to gain some perspective."

Lhiannon shook her other gauntlet off, running the finger on her hand across Loghain's. She traced the tiny scars there as he held her other hand in his, his thumb moving softly against her skin. She turned to look up at him and found him studying her. He removed his other gauntlet and brought his hand up to her face, caressing her cheek to offer her comfort. She turned her head into it and closed her eyes, savoring his gentle touch. He ran his thumb along the scar that snaked its way toward her temple from her eye, leaning forward to kiss it when his thumb was finished tracing it. Lhiannon brought her free hand up to Loghain's face, caressing the skin as her hand moved to the back of his head, pulling his lips to hers. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, inviting him into her mouth. He obliged her by caressing her lips with his tongue before chasing hers. He pulled her close and would have crushed her against him were it not for the layers of metal between them.

"Commander? Commander!"

Lhiannon paused in her kiss, her shoulders dropping in disappointment as she pulled away from Loghain. "Whoever that is," she growled quietly at Loghain, "is going to be demoted a rank and sent off the clean the privies."

"Harsh," he snickered.

Lhiannon and Loghain stood, donning their gauntlets as a young woman in scale armor rounded the side of a nearby building, nearly running into them. Lhiannon held her hands up to stop the soldier's forward progress.

"Easy soldier. What has you in such haste?" she asked, looking at the soldier warily.

The soldier bounded to a stop, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Commander, I was sent to tell you of a prisoner we have recently apprehended."

Lhiannon sighed. _What now?_ "What of this prisoner?"

"We caught him sneaking around the Vigil in the middle of the night recently. When we discovered him, it took four Grey Wardens to apprehend him."

Lhiannon turned to Loghain; he raised his brow at her. "It took four Wardens to capture him?" Loghain asked. "This is certainly interesting."

Lhiannon turned to the soldier. "Very well. We shall go see this prisoner for ourselves. Lead on."

The soldier led them to the dungeon entrance. Lhiannon and Loghain began to descend the narrow stairs, armored boots echoing loudly as they proceeded. They opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and saw a single guard seated at a table along one wall, a deck of playing cards spread across the table as he played a game. In one of the cells was a solitary prisoner, his fine clothes torn and dirty from an obvious struggle. He had a large lump on the side of his head and a black eye. If he had other injuries, they were not immediately visible.

The guard rose from his seat as Lhiannon and Loghain entered, giving both of them a salute. "Commander. Your Grace. You are here to speak to the prisoner, yes?"

Lhiannon nodded. "I am indeed. Give me the key to his cell and leave us. I shall call for you when I am finished speaking to him."

The guard looked at Lhiannon warily, but one look at the heavily armored Loghain set his mind at ease. He turned the key over to Lhiannon and left the room, the other soldier close behind.

As Lhiannon approached the cell to open the door, Loghain put himself between the cell and the exit, drawing his sword. The prisoner looked at Loghain with hate in his eyes, his gaze falling on the sword. Loghain lowered the sword to his side, keeping it ready in case it was needed. "Do not be foolish," he warned the prisoner. Something about the prisoner seemed familiar to him, but he was unable to place it.

Lhiannon opened the cell door, standing in it as the prisoner got to his feet. He was tall; not as tall as Loghain, but not much shorter either. He was more lithely built than Loghain, all lean muscle under his fine clothing.

"You don't look much like a prowler and thief," Lhiannon said, indicating the prisoner's fine, but dirty, clothing. "Those are some rather fine clothes you have."

"And you don't look much like the 'Hero of Ferelden' and vanquisher of all evil," he sneered, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice. "I thought you were supposed to be ten feet tall, with lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes."

"No," Lhiannon scoffed, "it was actually ice, and it was shooting out of my hands." She had turned up a palm and called forth an ice ball to demonstrate; she also wanted the prisoner to know that she was ready for him in case he foolishly rushed her. With a wave of her hand, the ice disappeared.

The prisoner clenched his fists gritting his teeth at Lhiannon. "I certainly thought my father's murderer would be more imposing than you are. I'm not impressed."

Lhiannon's eyes narrowed at the prisoner. _His father's murderer?_ "Ah," she heard Loghain say from behind her, drawing the word out for a second. "Now I recognize you, boy. You're Nathaniel Howe."

"That _traitor_ was your father?" Lhiannon said, her face wrinkling in disgust.

Nathaniel's lip pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. He pointed around Lhiannon to Loghain. " _My father_ served with the Hero of River Dane— _that man there—_ against the Orlesian dogs. You defeated Loghain and he is Teyrn again; my family lost everything for being on the wrong side of the civil war. We are nothing but pariahs now while Loghain still has his titles and honor. And _you_ have my home."

Loghain bristled at Nathaniel's speech. "I _did_ lose everything, boy, including my title and honor. The Commander could have had me executed but conscripted me into the Grey Wardens instead. The Queen made me Teyrn again after the defeat of the Blight. I had to fight to regain my title and honor, such as it is."

"But you still have everything. I have nothing," Nathaniel spat at Loghain. He turned his attention to Lhiannon. "Look, I thought I wanted to kill you. What I really want is some of my family's things. Sentimental items that mean nothing to you but a great deal to me."

"And then what?" Lhiannon asked. "Am I to just let you go? How do I know you weren't in league with your father during the civil war?"

Nathaniel sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. "I've only been back in Ferelden for a month. My father sent me to the Free Marches to be squired. I had heard there was a Blight and a civil war, but I had no idea what was really going on until I arrived. That's when I heard about my father's actions. He was already dead by _your_ hand when I got here."

"You were squired in the Free Marches?" Lhiannon asked, curious. "What were you sent to learn?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "A few things. Hunting. Scouting." He paused, looking at Lhiannon with a murderous glint in his eye. "Poisons."

Lhiannon folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head and studying Nathaniel carefully. "Let's say I give you some of your family's belongings and let you go. What then?" She heard Loghain shuffle slightly behind her and felt his apprehension through the taint.

Nathaniel shrugged again, his hands moving as he did so. "I could leave. I could come back. You might not catch me next time. I could be back with a knife at your throat and have my revenge."

"Perhaps," Lhiannon agreed, unfolding her arms and standing straight. "But I hardly think so." She turned her back to Nathaniel and passed Loghain on her way to the door. Loghain's eyes followed her, then returned to watching Nathaniel warily. Lhiannon opened the door and called for the guard to bring Varel before returning to Loghain's side.

Varel arrived several minutes later and stood next to Loghain, his hand on his weapon. "Have you decided what to do with the prisoner then, Commander?

Lhiannon nodded. "I have, Varel. I invoke the Right of Conscription."

"Absolutely not!" Nathaniel spat, revulsion crossing his face. "Send me to the gallows first."

"You _what?_ " Loghain asked incredulously, pointing his sword at Nathaniel. "The boy has said he wanted to kill you."

"I agree, Commander," Varel echoed. "There's no guaranteeing your safety if you release him."

"You want a Grey Warden that wants you dead?" Nathaniel said, shaking his head. "You do have a death wish."

Lhiannon looked at both Varel and Loghain, scoffing as she did so. "As I recall," she said, looking at Loghain with an raised brow, " _you_ wanted to kill _me_ when I conscripted you. Look what becoming a Grey Warden has done for you." She next turned her eyes to  Varel. "Some of my closest friends have wanted me dead, Varel. I still live."

"You are far too trusting," Loghain muttered under his breath. "This could be a fatal mistake."

"Perhaps it is," Lhiannon agreed. "But it is my mistake to make." She turned once again to Varel. "Bring the chalice. He takes the Joining now."

Varel shook his head before bowing to Lhiannon. "As you wish, Commander." He turned and mounted the stairs, heavy boots echoing the entire way.

Loghain moved closer to Lhiannon, lowering his head toward her ear without taking his eyes off Nathaniel. "You are certain about this then?" he spoke quietly into her ear.

Lhiannon nodded, confident in her decision. "I am. I believe he can be useful to the Grey Wardens."

Loghain scoffed at her. "Obstinate woman."

"You are rubbing off on me, Loghain," she told him, a smirk crossing her face. Loghain merely scoffed at her before returning his watchful gaze to Nathaniel.

The heavy thumping of boots on the stairs signaled Varel's return to the dungeon. In his hands he held the chalice used for the Joining, the darkspawn blood already mixed with wine. Lhiannon and Loghain grimaced slightly at the smell of corruption coming from the chalice. Varel turned and looked at Nathaniel.

"Nathaniel Howe, step forward."

Nathaniel came out of the cell, uneasiness clearly written on his face. He reached out for the chalice as Varel spoke the words of the Joining. With a heavy sigh, Nathaniel raised the chalice to his lips and drank deeply. Lhiannon watched as his eyes began to roll in his head and his hands loosened their grip on the chalice. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter, spilling a small amount of the contents onto the floor. Nathaniel slowly crumpled into a heap, shaking slightly as he lay on the cold stone. Varel bent over and felt for a pulse in Nathaniel's neck. With a sigh of relief, he turned and looked up at Lhiannon.

"He lives, Commander."

"Good," Lhiannon exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "Have some of the guards take him to a guest room. They will stand guard until he wakes up. I want to make sure he was just bluffing when he said he would put a knife to my throat."

Loghain caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow at her. Lhiannon grinned and winked at him. "I wasn't born yesterday, love."


End file.
